Missing Page 16

  ‘You’ll be going on to help promote the auction,’ Vivienne reminded her. ‘And Theo’s going to be right there with you. And Stella. In fact, knowing her she’ll do all the talking, and remember, we’re aiming that high so that we can pass the extra funds on to someone else in your position.’

  ‘Maybe they should get it first. It wouldn’t seem quite so selfish then, would it?’

  ‘You’re not being selfish,’ Vivienne assured her. ‘You’re simply allowing your friends to help you, and in return, you’re going to help someone else.’

  Sharon nodded uncertainly, then glanced at her watch. ‘I ought to be going,’ she said, ‘but before I do … I know it’s none of my business, but I heard the news last night …’

  ‘You mean about the police questioning me?’

  She nodded. ‘It’s just that with the Blakes’ place being over by Moorlands, and all the press being there … Well, if you want to come and stay with me. The kids could always sleep …’

  ‘Honestly, I’m fine where I am,’ Vivienne assured her. ‘Remember, dealing with the press is part of my job.’

  Sharon nodded uncertainly.

  ‘I really appreciate the offer,’ Vivienne said earnestly. ‘Thank you. Now you’d better go, or you’ll be late. And if there’s anything you need, just give me a call.’

  An hour or so later, after an extremely rowdy but nonetheless satisfactory brainstorming session with the WI ladies, who’d readily offered the services of spouses, sons and brothers should they be required, Vivienne left them to it and carried her laptop and briefcase out to the car. Once in the driver’s seat she switched on her BlackBerry and her heart sank to see so many emails, texts and voice messages. Much as she wished that they were all about the auction, she knew very well they weren’t.

  Ignoring them all for the moment, she got back on the road to Haytor before giving a voice command to connect to Kayla.

  ‘Hey, boss,’ Kayla cried on hearing her, ‘did you get my message? I’m being inundated here by journos wanting to talk to you about Jacqueline. Don’t worry, I haven’t told anyone where you are, except I’m afraid I had to tell the police.’

  Vivienne stiffened.

  ‘They called here earlier, asking to speak to you, so not wanting to end up on the wrong side of the law or anything, I thought I’d better tell them how to get hold of you.’

  ‘Did they say what it was about?’ Vivienne asked, as she joined a dual carriageway to start heading south.

  ‘Not really, but I suppose it has to be Jacqueline.’

  ‘Do they want me to call back?’

  ‘If they do, they didn’t leave a number, which means it’s probably not urgent, so if I were you I’d wait for them to get in touch again.’

  ‘Thank you for your advice. Is Alice there?’

  ‘Yep. She’s just come in, but she’s on the other line already, do you want to wait?’

  ‘No, get her to call me when she’s free.’

  As she rang off Vivienne’s expression quickly changed to one of concern, not only about why the police wanted to talk to her again, but because of the ludicrous problem she was now facing. Somehow she had to keep herself out of the public eye, while trying to push Sharon and the auction into it.

  ‘Obviously it’ll be easier once Theo’s around,’ she said to Alice when they finally connected, ‘any word from him yet?’

  ‘Absolutely. He can be on board from next Wednesday, apparently.’

  ‘As soon as that? Excellent, but for how long?’

  ‘Until the auction’s over.’

  ‘He knows we haven’t fixed a date yet?’

  ‘He says he’ll fit everything around it.’

  Vivienne laughed. ‘Well, we can’t ask for more than that,’ she declared happily. ‘However, I’m still going to need some extra help organising photographers and press calls etc., so I’ll give Pete a call to find out what kind of time frame he’s working to with Belle Amie. How are things going your end?’

  For the next ten minutes they were engrossed in discussing Alice’s various strategies for the movie, until eventually the subject returned to the auction.

  ‘We need to move ahead fairly quickly now,’ Vivienne said, indicating to take a left fork that led into a tangled network of country lanes. ‘Sharon’s seeing the specialist next week, and you only have to look at her to see the strain she’s under. Putting some money in her account will help alleviate at least one burden of stress.’

  ‘So what sort of time frame are you looking at?’

  ‘I’m meeting with a local auctioneer before I leave here tomorrow, so he’ll be able to give me an idea of how long it’ll take to set up, but I’m hoping we’ll be ready to go under the hammer by the middle of November.’

  ‘So about three weeks from now? You’ll have your work cut out.’

  ‘Which is why I need the extra help. Thankfully the choreographer’s taking care of the firemen, and as soon as Theo’s around he can help prepare Stella and Sharon for the cameras.’

  ‘He’ll enjoy that,’ Alice commented cheerfully. ‘So how was it staying in the cider press last night?’

  ‘Cosy. A bit lonely without Susie and Richard around, but it’s going to work well as my HQ. The barn – or auction room, I should call it – is about five minutes away, at Susie’s sanctuary, and I’ve got everything I need, landline, fax, printer, copier, video and DVD player, either right there in the press, or in Richard’s office.’

  ‘Sounds perfect. Any more calls from Miles?’

  Vivienne’s heart caught a beat. ‘No, not today. No more anonymous texts either, before you ask, but I sent a return message to Justine James telling her I knew it was her texting me so maybe we should meet. And what do you know, ten minutes later I get a text back asking me to name the time and place and she’ll be there. Signed JJ.’

  ‘So you were right, it was her. What a bitch. Are you going to meet her?’

  ‘No, of course not. But I might well mention the texts to the police as a form of harassment. Oh no, what’s this, something’s happening up ahead here.’ Peering along the narrow road where the hedgerows and trees were beginning to merge into a greying dusk, she watched the tail lights of a car in front as the driver swung into an open gate, reversed, then came back to edge past Vivienne’s Beetle. Right behind him was a plump woman in a tight-fitting wax jacket and muddy green boots.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ Vivienne asked, rolling down her window as the woman approached.

  ‘Yeah, fine,’ the woman answered in a broad country accent. ‘It’s just that me husband’s running the heifers down from the top field any minute, so we’ve roped off all the driveways as far as the major’s to make sure none of ’em takes a wrong turn. Where are you going?’

  ‘Moor—’ Vivienne cut the word off, stunned that it had almost come out. ‘Uh South Dinley,’ she said.

  ‘Oh yeah, Richard and Susie’s place. We’ve got ’em roped up at the moment, I’m afraid. Shouldn’t be long though, but if you wants to go back and come down onto their land from the moor you can turn around where the other bloke just did.’

  ‘Don’t you just love that accent?’ Alice’s voice said in her ear.

  ‘OK, thanks,’ Vivienne said to the woman. ‘I’ll do that,’ and winding up the window again she pulled forward to start making the turn.

  ‘You’re never driving up onto Dartmoor at night, alone,’ Alice teased.

  ‘No. I’m going to take the opportunity to go to the Nobody Inn at Doddiscombsleigh, or Doddy as the locals call it. They do B & B, so I’ll see if I can work out some kind of deal for the invited press. Anyway, where were we?’

  ‘Can’t remember, but I’m afraid I have to love you and leave you now. Angus has just turned up wanting a lift to the airport.’

  ‘Where’s he going?’

  ‘Only over to Dublin for tonight and tomorrow. We’ll talk again later.’

  After ringing off Vivienne drove on through the rapidly darkening
night, passing entrances to large estates where sprawling farmhouses and elegant homes were tucked away like secrets behind locked gates and dense prickly hedgerows. Eventually she connected with the road that led to the centuries-old inn which, if she remembered correctly, could boast over 200 brands of whisky, 700 of wine, and fifty different types of local cheeses. It was a pub she and Miles had often visited, usually for lunch on a Sunday when the roast was so scrumptious that people would come from miles around for the treat.

  By the time she pulled up outside it was a little after five thirty. There weren’t many other cars around, just an old Land Rover tucked away in a far corner, and an Audi estate which she parked alongside.

  She found the lounge deserted, but a welcoming fire was crackling in the hearth, creating a warm, cosy glow that was reflected in the many pieces of brass and glossy black beams. A man in tweeds was in the adjacent bar, leaning against the counter chatting to the landlord, while either side of the electric fire in there two young couples were talking and laughing quietly amongst themselves, and barely even looked up as she came in.

  After ordering herself a lager shandy she carried it to a corner table in the empty lounge, and took out her BlackBerry to start roughing out a workable agenda, so that she could approach the landlord with possible dates.

  When the door opened a few minutes later she was so absorbed in what she was doing that she barely heard it. It was only when someone said her name that her head came up, and when she saw who it was her heartbeat almost slowed to a stop.

  ‘Miles,’ she whispered, getting to her feet. ‘Miles, I …’

  His dark eyes were reflecting her shock.

  She started to speak, but the words dried in her throat. She’d dreamt so often of how it might be if she saw him again, what they might say, how overwhelming it might seem, and now it was happening, and it still felt like a dream.

  His eyes were sweeping her face as though she were an apparition.

  Realising she was shaking, she clenched her hands tightly as she said, ‘I wasn’t expecting … I mean …’

  Neither of them was aware of the door opening, they only knew the emotions passing between them as he said, ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I’m seeing the WI.’

  ‘Of course.’ His smile was crooked, and amazed, and so wonderfully familiar that she could feel her heart swelling. ‘This has been so hard,’ he murmured.

  ‘For me too.’ She laughed as the words caught in her throat.

  ‘Uh, excuse me,’ a voice behind him said. ‘Sorry to interrupt, but can I get anyone a drink?’

  Miles turned round, and as Vivienne looked past him to see who’d spoken she blinked in confusion. Her eyes went back to Miles as her blood started to run cold. ‘Is she with you?’ she demanded. Then, without waiting for an answer, ‘Yes, of course she is.’

  ‘Vivienne, listen,’ he said, making to grab her as she snatched up her BlackBerry.

  ‘Don’t!’ she raged, pulling her arm away. ‘I don’t know what’s going on here, but that you could have anything to do with that woman …’

  ‘Charming,’ Justine murmured.

  ‘Vivienne,’ Miles barked, ‘will you just—’

  ‘You might be willing to trust her, but I never will,’ Vivienne seethed, and before he could stop her she was sweeping past him, only pausing at the door to say, ‘Get her to tell you about the texts she’s been sending me. Ask her what that’s all about, and while you’re at it, you might like to ask her if she knows where Jacqueline is.’

  She was already in her car and starting the engine by the time he came out after her, but she was too angry to speak to him now, and backing dangerously across the car park she accelerated furiously off into the night, throwing up a hail of gravel behind her.

  Justine was standing at the bar ordering drinks when Miles came back into the pub, looking both angry and worried as he tried to get Vivienne on her mobile. In the end, since she was evidently refusing to pick up, he called her office and started trying to bully information out of someone there.

  To Justine’s surprise the person at the other end must have caved in, because suddenly Miles was jotting down a number, and the next minute he was pressing it into his phone.

  ‘Alice, it’s Miles,’ he said shortly. ‘You have to tell me where Vivienne’s staying … I know she’s in Devon, I’ve just seen her … Alice, please listen. Something’s happened. I need to know where she is … No, she’s fine, I swear. I just have to … OK, if you must, call her first and tell her … Just tell her I have to see her.’

  As he snapped his phone closed frustration was etched in every line of his face.

  ‘You might as well have a drink while you’re waiting,’ Justine told him lightly.

  His focus sharpened, and picking up one of the glasses the barman had just put down, he said, ‘What did she mean about the texts you’ve been sending her, and knowing where Jacqueline is?’

  Justine pulled a face.

  ‘Don’t play innocent, Justine. What the hell’s going on?’

  She shrugged. ‘Come on, Miles, you know how it works.’

  ‘How what works?’

  ‘You try to provoke someone into saying or doing something …’

  His eyes closed in despair. ‘I knew I was a fool to get you involved in this.’

  ‘Miles, I’d be covering it anyway!’ she cried. ‘And I’m on your side, remember? You don’t seriously think I’m going to do anything to jeopardise our friendship?’

  ‘Sending texts to Vivienne goes a lot further than that,’ he told her angrily.

  She gave a sigh of frustration. ‘Like it or not, you’re big news,’ she said crisply, ‘and she’s your ex, though judging by what I saw when I walked in …’

  ‘You didn’t see anything,’ he growled. ‘She’s here working with the WI. It has nothing to do with me.’

  ‘OK, I believe you, but she’s still here, in Devon, and you’re missing a wife, so tell me how I’m suddenly the guilty party here.’

  Before he could answer his phone rang, and flipping it open he put it to his ear. ‘Alice,’ he said.

  Justine watched him as he listened, his expression registering first confusion, then surprise. ‘OK, thanks,’ he said, and abruptly ended the call. ‘I’m going after Vivienne,’ he announced, throwing a ten-pound note on the bar.

  ‘You can’t just abandon me,’ she protested. ‘If you—’ She stopped as his eyes suddenly glinted in a way she didn’t much like.

  ‘You still haven’t told me what she meant about asking you where Jacqueline is,’ he reminded her.

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  His expression was darkening. ‘If you know anything …’

  ‘For God’s sake, Miles, if I had that kind of information do you seriously think I’d keep it to myself?’

  Since it hardly seemed likely, he let it go. After checking for his keys he was about to tell her to book herself into the pub for the night, when the arguments that would inevitably follow flashed before him. Having neither the time nor the inclination to get into it now, he told her to take a taxi to the house, and left.

  Justine’s eyes remained on the door long after it had closed behind him. She took another sip of her drink, and continued to reflect on the intriguing exchange she’d overheard as she’d come into the bar.

  This has been so hard, he’d said to Vivienne. For me too, she’d replied.

  Of course, they could simply have been expressing how difficult they’d found the past two years, being apart from one another. On the other hand, they could just as easily have been referring to some kind of forced separation that they’d been enduring since his wife’s mysterious disappearance.

  Taking out one of her mobiles she put in a quick call to Colleen Peterson, the reporter she’d been working with on the Mail. ‘The Berkshire address I texted you yesterday?’ she said when Colleen answered. ‘Have you sent a photographer over there yet?’

  ‘Dan Figgis we
nt earlier,’ Colleen informed her. ‘Apparently there’s definitely a child inside, but so far he hasn’t been able to get anything usable.’

  ‘Is he still there?’

  ‘Be serious, it’s dark out in case you hadn’t noticed. He’s going back tomorrow. So, what’s happening about the meet with Vivienne Kane?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s going to happen,’ Justine replied, ‘but don’t worry, you’ve got something much better coming your way.’ Snapping closed the phone, she carried her drink to a table, knowing that even if Dan Figgis didn’t manage to get a shot of the child she wasn’t far off being ready to go to press with rumours of one, anyway.

  ‘OK, Elaine,’ DI Sadler was saying as he started out of CID, where momentum had stepped up since they’d received confirmation that Miles Avery was the father of Vivienne Kane’s child, ‘let’s go pay Ms Kane a visit.’

  Quickly grabbing her coat and mobile, DC Joy hurried after him. ‘You’re not going to call first?’ she asked, catching him up in the corridor.

  ‘I think a little surprise might serve us well,’ he responded, digging into his pocket to make sure he had his keys.

  Stepping aside for two uniformed officers to run past in answer to an emergency, Joy said, ‘Will you let Avery know in advance about the official search for his wife?’

  Sadler nodded as they continued out through custody. ‘I’ll speak to him before we brief Tactical Aid in the morning,’ he said. ‘They know we need divers and pilots?’

  ‘DS Johns is arranging it.’

  A few moments later they were getting into Sadler’s Ford Focus.

  ‘Do you know where the Blakes’ place is exactly?’ he asked, reversing out of the parking space and driving round to join the rush hour on Heavitree Road.

  ‘More or less. It’s kind of between Chudleigh and Haytor. Whatever, it’s going to take us a while in all this.’

  Sadler didn’t disagree. Nor did he feel inclined to speak again until they were on the main road heading south from Exeter, when he said, ‘Have you sorted out family liaison? There’s a teenage daughter, remember?’