Missing Read online

  Silence.

  ‘Is that what you want?’ he repeated.

  ‘Maybe,’ she replied sulkily.

  ‘I don’t think so, because I don’t think you’ve thought this through. Now where the hell are you?’

  ‘I’m not telling you, but I’m perfectly safe so you don’t have to worry.’

  ‘You’re being absurd. Of course I’m worried. You’re fourteen years old …’

  ‘I can take care of myself.’

  ‘By running away from school? A very responsible action. And from what Martha tells me you’ve been having problems there that you’ve never mentioned to me, so we need to talk.’

  ‘Forget it. I’m staying right here until you make that woman go away.’

  Biting down on his anger, he said, ‘She isn’t at the house, and I won’t be held to blackmail like this. You’re being selfish and immature—’

  ‘Oh, like and you aren’t? You’re the one who doesn’t have time for anyone else now you—’

  ‘Kelsey, I’m not getting into an argument with you over something you’re making up. Of course I have time for you. I always have, and always will, but I won’t tolerate this kind of manipulation.’

  ‘Well that’s just tough, isn’t it, because I’m not coming back until she’s gone, and that’s that.’

  Having to accept they were getting nowhere like this, he forced himself to sound conciliatory, and said, ‘She’s going back to London later today. Will you come home then?’

  Silence.

  ‘Are you there?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m here.’

  ‘Will you please answer my question.’

  ‘I might come. Then again, I might not.’

  Barely suppressing his frustration, he said, ‘Where are you sleeping at night?’

  ‘In a bed.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘None of your business.’

  ‘Do I need to remind you of your age again?’

  ‘I’m safe, all right!’ she shouted. ‘No one’s going to do anything, because no one knows I’m here.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘In my— Oh, very clever. I’m going now. Goodbye.’

  Hearing the line go dead, he turned off his own phone and pressed down harder on the accelerator. In my what? Friend’s house? Dormitory? Could she still be at the school, hiding somewhere? It was certainly possible, so he called the headmistress to ask her to mount a thorough search.

  ‘If she’s not there, then my guess is she’s at a friend’s house,’ he said when finally he spoke to Vivienne.

  ‘But wouldn’t their parents wonder why she isn’t at school?’

  ‘Not if they’re away and the house is empty. Anyway, it’s the best I can come up with right now. I don’t know whether to contact the police or not. Maybe I’ll try talking to her again first. Whatever, I’m afraid this means I’ll have to stay in Devon for the weekend.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said without hesitation. ‘Will we see you before we go?’

  ‘If there’s no press around I’ll come over to the stables now, if you’re still there?’

  ‘We are. The Sky TV crew’s here, but no journalists at the end of the road. How far away are you?’

  ‘About twenty minutes.’

  ‘OK. I’ll see you when you get here. Have to go now, someone’s trying to get through.’

  ‘At last, Mrs Avery’s mobile phone records,’ Sadler announced, striding into CID with his chest pumped up. ‘It seems she called a number in Richmond on Thames three times during the week before she disappeared.’

  Joy swivelled away from her computer. ‘Who does it belong to?’ she dutifully asked.

  ‘An estate agent,’ he replied. ‘And unless I’m gravely mistaken, it’s the one on the roundabout at the junction with Kew Road.’

  Immediately understanding the significance, Joy reached for the report. ‘That’s it,’ she confirmed, recognising the estate agent’s name. ‘Fifteen years ago it was a garage – the one her little boy was snatched from. But why would she be calling them? Surely no one there would know what had happened during its previous existence.’

  ‘I could hazard a guess or two,’ he responded, ‘but you have the number, so off you go. I’ll be in my office when you’ve finished.’

  Ten minutes later Joy wandered in with a bewildered expression on her face. ‘No one’s ever heard of her,’ she informed him. ‘I even tried the name Anne Cates, but that didn’t trigger anything either.’

  ‘Mm,’ Sadler grunted. ‘Did you send her photographs over to Richmond CID?’

  ‘Did it as soon as we got back,’ she assured him.

  ‘Then maybe a photograph will jog someone’s memory better than the name.’ His eyes came to hers. ‘Unless your theory about her changing her appearance holds good. If it does, the shots we have might not be of much use.’

  ‘It’s still worth a try,’ she said gravely. ‘I’ll get onto Richmond right away, and see how soon they can send someone over.’

  There was no one else in the church of St Anne’s; no vicar, no flower-arranger or stray tourist. Jacqueline was alone in a pew close to the altar, observed by the eyes of Christ on his cross, along with angels, saints, and Mary with the son she’d been allowed to watch growing into a man before he was taken. They gazed down at her from colourful windows and embroidered mantles, impervious, unmoving, silent witnesses to a solitary woman’s need for understanding. They who had known suffering, who had endured pain and cried out in torment, watched her with wide, unblinking eyes, showing no mercy or compassion, no feeling at all.

  A couple of days ago, when she was passing at midday, the clock had stopped chiming at six. She’d stared up at it, waiting, even willing it to complete its task, but six was as far as it went. She didn’t really believe in signs, but she’d decided to go into the church anyway, simply to find out if there really was a problem with the clock, or if she was imagining it.

  She’d found herself in a bright, welcoming nave with exquisite white Tuscan pillars and lovingly polished pews. No one was around, so she’d walked on down the aisle, encouraged by the quiet, content to be out of the wind. It was the first time in many years that she’d stepped into the house of God. After all the ranting and raging at his cruelty he’d become nothing to her, because he had proved that he had no existence.

  She still didn’t believe, but she’d started dropping into the church regularly now, breaking her journeys between Richmond and Chiswick. She didn’t pray, or read, she simply sat with her thoughts, letting them drift back over the years, like a breeze over water, moving the surface, but disturbing nothing beneath. Sometimes there were more stirring sensations, and she might even, on occasion, feel as though she could become submerged in sadness, or regret, or even elation, but then her journey would swirl round full circle, to arrive back at the wall she was facing. There was no way over or around it, there was only it, and her, at the journey’s end – and an understanding that had been dawning in her heart, perhaps for a very long time, but much more clearly over the last few days.

  Lifting her head, she gazed up into the marble eyes of the Madonna and felt the pull of the years that stretched behind her, taking her back and back, and showing her how she’d allowed herself to fall into the deepest, darkest pit, too afraid to come out, and too terrified to let anyone in. It was as though an army of demons had found its way through the fractures in her heart to the very essence of who she was. She fought to keep herself safe, tried everything to push them away, because if she didn’t she knew Sam would never come back. No one had ever understood how vital it was to keep everything the same, not even Miles. It was wrong to move forward without Sam, because he wouldn’t know where to find them, but Miles had made her, and though for a while she’d been able to cope, in the end everything – life, destiny, hope, even despair – had drawn her back to where she had lost him.

  It wasn’t as though she could start again from the time he’d disappeared, but lately the struggle h
adn’t seemed so great, nor the fears so intense. She could think more clearly now and see what lay ahead, in a way that made her heart beat more steadily and her eyes take on a penetrating glow. It was as though she was reaching out to an answer that might, eventually, lead her from the darkness into light.

  She had never thought to find solace this way, yet it seemed to be happening. One of her greatest fears, that Miles might have another son, was now a reality, and instead of becoming overwhelmed by denial and rage, as she’d expected, she was only aware of a growing sense of calm and curiosity – and a feeling of hope that seemed to soothe the turbulence inside her.

  She wasn’t afraid any more. She was only eager, she realised, to embrace the son that had come to Miles, to feel the comfort of his small body in her arms and smell the sweet baby scent of him. Surely no one would begrudge her that when her need was so great – not even his mother.

  ‘Hey, Vivi,’ a perky voice chirruped down the line.

  ‘Hey, Kayla,’ Vivienne chirruped back, turning at the sound of a car coming into the stable yard. Seeing the grey BMW, she felt her heart warm and started to smile. ‘Here’s Daddy,’ she whispered to Rufus, who was half asleep in her arms.

  ‘Where?’ Kayla whispered back. ‘I can’t see him.’

  ‘Very funny. How are things your end?’

  ‘Great news from Sky. Apparently their finance bods have struck a deal with a major cancer trust, so we can use their charity status for the auction. So tax deductions, here we come.’

  ‘That’s fantastic!’ Vivienne cried. ‘People are much more likely to be generous if they know that.’

  ‘Exactly. Also, Angus wants me to tell you that he can make lunch with Al Kohler and team next Tuesday. He reckons you’ll form a kind of committee which he’s happy to be part of, and wants to know if you’re interested in chairing it, because he’ll put you forward if you are.’

  ‘I think our role is to publicise the auction,’ Vivienne replied, tucking the phone under her chin in order to shift Rufus onto the other arm. ‘But I’ll give it some thought, because maybe I would like to be more involved. Anything else?’ she asked, her eyes connecting with Miles’s as she walked over to the car. Was it really possible to love him more every time she saw him, because that was certainly how it felt?

  ‘No, I think that’s about it,’ Kayla responded.

  ‘Hi,’ Miles murmured, putting his mouth to hers as he took Rufus from her.

  ‘Hi,’ she murmured back.

  ‘Hi yourself,’ Kayla put in. ‘Can I go now? Are we done here?’

  ‘I think so,’ Vivienne replied, smoothing a hand over Rufus’s cheek as he snuggled up to his father. ‘Get Alice to call me when she has a minute. I’ll be back in Chiswick tomorrow and I need to see her.’ As she clicked off she said to Miles, ‘Any news from the school? Has she turned up there?’

  ‘Not yet. I’ve spoken to her again, though, and I get the impression she could be ready to come out of hiding.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief. What did she say?’

  ‘That she’s sorry and realises she’s being selfish, and because she doesn’t want me to worry she’ll come home but only on the condition …’ He grimaced. ‘I’m sorry about this, but the condition is that you’re not there.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Vivienne assured him. ‘I wouldn’t be at Moorlands anyway, and it’s important that you make her feel as secure as you can, particularly while she’s going through all this with her mother.’

  He nodded gravely. ‘I just hope she decides to turn up tonight. What time are you leaving?’

  ‘In about an hour. I’ll collect some things from the cider press first, then start making tracks.’

  Gazing down at Rufus’s sleep-flushed cheeks, he said, ‘I’m loathe to part with him.’

  ‘It’ll only be until Wednesday,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Still too long,’ he murmured. ‘Kelsey’s friend told me a couple of things today about some kind of bullying or teasing at school—’

  Turning to find out what had stopped him, Vivienne saw Stella coming towards them, a very troubled expression on her face. Immediately she was concerned, for she’d never seen Stella without at least the beginnings of a smile, nor did she appear at all surprised, or even curious, that Miles was at the refuge. ‘What is it?’ Vivienne asked. ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘Yes, it has,’ Stella said bleakly. ‘Or maybe I should say it’s not going to. Oh dear, it’s a terrible bit of news. Not what we was expecting at all. It shouldn’t ’appen like this. It’s mean, is what it is. Getting someone’s hopes up then letting them down …’

  ‘You need to tell us what it is,’ Vivienne prompted gently.

  Stella nodded grimly. ‘It’s our little Sharon. Turns out her donor in’t up for it after all, so she can’t have the transplant.’

  ‘Oh no.’ Vivienne reached for Stella’s hands. ‘That’s awful. Where’s Sharon now?’

  ‘She’s at ’ome with the kids. All shook up she is, by the sound of her. I ought to get meself over there, but my hubby’s in having his cataracts done this afternoon, so I have to go and pick him up.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll go,’ Vivienne assured her. And, turning to Miles, ‘She shouldn’t be on her own now.’

  ‘No, of course not,’ he agreed.

  ‘I reckon she’ll like that, if you goes,’ Stella said. ‘It’ll make her feel a bit special. But what are we going to do about this auction now? I mean, if she …’

  Hugging her, Vivienne said, ‘It’ll go ahead as planned, because we still need the financial support for when she does get a donor.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, course you’re right.’

  Spotting a camera pointing in their direction, Stella turned into full frame as she said, ‘Our poor girl. You got to help her. Someone out there, please,’ and with her eyes full of tears, she put her head down and trundled off to her car.

  Vivienne turned to Miles. ‘I’ll call you later, when I’m on my way back to London. If you hear anything from Kelsey in that time, don’t forget to let me know.’

  ‘Are you sure that’s her?’ Sadler growled as Joy replayed a section of CCTV footage. ‘I can’t see how she looks like anyone with all that hair and sunglasses.’

  ‘That’s what caught my attention,’ she told him. ‘It’s a classic disguise.’

  ‘What’s to say it’s a disguise? It looks perfectly normal to me.’

  ‘Maybe it is. I’m just saying, sir, it could be Mrs Avery and if it is she boarded a London-bound train at four twenty on the day she disappeared. Six hours after she was supposed to be travelling. That gives her ample time to change her hair and clothes, dump the bag containing everything of her real identity, and even to shop for any last-minute items she might need.’

  ‘Mm,’ Sadler grunted.

  ‘What’s more,’ she continued, ‘while you were down at the pub having lunch with the boys, sir, I had a very interesting chat with DC Ball in Richmond. Apparently he went round to the estate agent’s this morning, and it turns out that someone there does know the name Anne Cates.’

  Sadler scowled.

  ‘The agent in question wasn’t in the office when I called yesterday,’ she explained, ‘but he’s been quite helpful today. Apparently, Anne Cates got in touch with him a couple of months ago about renting a house or apartment in Richmond. She wanted a short-term let, which she was prepared to pay for up front and in cash. He showed her quite a few, he says, and was certain she was going to take one close to the green, but then at the last minute she called to say she’d found somewhere else.’

  ‘Did she tell him where?’

  Joy deflated slightly as she shook her head. ‘But I don’t think we’d go far wrong in assuming it’s in Richmond, or possibly Kew, since that’s where the call came from.’

  ‘Mm,’ Sadler mumbled ponderously.

  ‘I’ve taken the liberty,’ Joy went on, ‘of asking DC Ball to contact all the estate agents in Richmond to f
ind out if they’ve rented a place to an Anne Cates sometime during the past two months. It could be that the envelope we found contained a letter from one of them.’

  Sadler nodded approval. ‘Good thinking. Have you mentioned any of this to Mr Avery?’

  ‘No, sir. My last contact with him was yesterday when he called to ask if anyone had checked the house he and his wife used to own in Richmond.’

  ‘And you told him someone had?’

  ‘Of course.’

  He sat quietly thinking for a moment, his expression creased with concentration. ‘Has that pay-as-you-go phone been used again since the call came in?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘Not that anyone’s mentioned, and they’ve got instructions to let us know the minute it is.’

  ‘OK, so we don’t know if she’s still in the Kew area … Are Ms Kane and her son still in Devon?’

  ‘They were earlier today, sir. I couldn’t be sure now.’

  ‘Then get onto it, Detective Constable, and I’ll speak to DC Ball’s superiors. I think we need to ratchet it up a little around there.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  IT WAS AFTER nine in the morning when Vivienne finally woke up to find bright shafts of sunlight streaming through the skylights above her bed. Since she hadn’t got back to Chiswick until after eleven the night before she wasn’t surprised to find Rufus was sleeping in too, particularly after he’d used up so much energy playing with Sharon’s children before they’d left Devon. As usual, Sharon had tried to put a brave face on what she was going through, but it was clear that her hopes had been devastated by the donor’s withdrawal. Now all she could see looming was the horror of leaving her children with no mother or father.

  Vivienne had stayed with her until Stella had turned up and the children were asleep, doing her best to comfort and reassure her, but nothing she could say would ever ease the fear in Sharon’s heart – only another donor could do that. Considering Sharon’s rare tissue type, the chances of finding a replacement in time now were almost non-existent, but Vivienne was refusing to give up hope. They were generating a lot of publicity for the auction, so maybe someone with the right match might yet come forward.