Authors: Michelle Davies
‘My nephew Jude is the same age as your daughter and I know he’s seen stuff no child should ever be exposed to,’ said Maggie. ‘My sister has parental controls on their
home computer and he doesn’t have Internet access on his phone but other kids in his class do, so he sees it anyway.’
‘It makes me want to lock my daughter up until she’s at least eighteen,’ said Umpire, looking troubled.
‘Maybe that’s why Mack’s strict with Rosie, because he knows what teenagers get up to these days and it worries him. Sexting’s so widespread that kids think it’s
normal behaviour.’
‘This picture proves he’s right to be fearful. It’s going to be difficult to work out where it was taken and who by. There’s not much to go on in the
background.’
‘Hang on, what’s that?’ said Maggie, pointing to the right-hand edge of the photo.
‘I can’t see anything.’
‘Just there, see? It looks like a shadow but it’s actually fabric, dark blue or even black. Maybe it’s clothing, sir.’
Umpire squinted at the photograph again. ‘You’re right. I can see it now. I’ll have HTCU magnify the picture, see if they can work out exactly what it is. Well spotted,
Neville.’
His praise fell on deaf ears though, as Maggie was more concerned with what happened next.
‘Do we tell the Kinnocks about it? God knows how they’ll react.’
‘No, let’s keep it from them until we’ve got more to go on. But see the shoes she’s wearing? Find out from Lesley if they’re Rosie’s.’
‘I doubt it very much. A short skirt is one thing, but I think Lesley would baulk at buying shoes like that for Rosie to wear behind Mack’s back.’
‘Exactly. So if they’re not Rosie’s, whose are they?’
As she went in search of Lesley, it dawned on Maggie that it wasn’t the size of Angel’s Reach that was so unsettling, but its stillness. It was so quiet she could
hear her every breath as she walked back through the house. It was hardly surprising, she decided, that Lesley was so out of kilter with her surroundings. How discomfiting Angel’s Reach must
be after living on the Corley estate, where the streets and houses were so tightly knitted together that you could practically hear someone sneeze three doors away.
When Maggie lived on the estate as a child, it throbbed with the noise of kids playing outside, neighbours shouting to one another over garden fences, all-night parties and cars shrieking up and
down the roads with boy racers behind the wheel. It was vibrant, exciting and probably the reason why the trains running below her town-centre flat never bothered her. She liked background noise
and craved it. She could never live somewhere like Angel’s Reach, or Haxton for that matter. The village was too rural for her, surrounded as it was by acres of protected green space and not
much else. Until this case, she’d only ever ventured there on two other occasions, the first being when she was six and her parents took her and Lou to the toy museum in the village centre.
Her abiding memory of the trip was not being able to understand why all the toys were trapped behind glass and not free to be played with.
She found Lesley perched on the top step of the terrace. The lawn was still taped off. Maggie was surprised to see she was smoking.
‘Are you okay?’ she said.
Lesley was mid-way through taking a drag and motioned with her free hand for Maggie to sit down. After a second she exhaled loudly, sending a thin wisp of smoke across the lawn.
‘I haven’t smoked a cigarette for twenty years but suddenly I was desperate for one. One of your lot outside gave me this.’ Lesley took one last drag then ground the butt into
the flagstone step. ‘That was disgusting,’ she sighed. With an unsteady hand, she pushed her hair off her face. It hung in rat’s tails where she hadn’t combed it properly
after her earlier shower. She’d also changed out of the dress and cardigan and back into the denim skirt and navy T-shirt. Maggie asked her why.
‘I want everything to be like it was when Rosie went,’ Lesley said, keeping her gaze trained on the firs at the bottom of the garden.
‘It’s so quiet round here,’ Maggie commented, after they’d sat in silence for a while. ‘It must take some getting used to after the Corley.’ When Lesley gave
her a quizzical look, Maggie explained she’d once lived on the estate too. ‘We were on Sherwood Street.’
‘I know it – it’s on the other side from where we were. Yes, it’s very different. Sometimes when Rosie and Mack are out I stand out here and everything’s so silent
I imagine myself the only living, breathing creature for miles. I’ve always said this house is far too big for the three of us.’ She gave Maggie another sideways glance. ‘You
still haven’t found her, have you? You would’ve said if you had.’
‘No, we haven’t. I know it’s frustrating and it must feel like it’s going at a snail’s pace but really it’s not. Everyone’s working round the clock and
dozens of leads are being investigated. We won’t stop until we find her.’
Lesley nodded. ‘I know. I just can’t get my head around the fact she’s not back yet. I keep expecting her to bowl through the front door like nothing’s happened and ask
what all the fuss is about. I’m scared because the longer it goes on, the more numbed I feel. I keep thinking I should be crying and screaming and tearing down walls or something, but I just
feel flat and empty.’
Maggie listened to Lesley’s outpouring but made no reply, conscious she wasn’t supposed to counsel her. The air began to fill with drizzle and the dark clouds hanging low overhead
suggested it would soon turn to rain.
‘Shall we go inside?’ asked Maggie.
‘I’m fine out here,’ said Lesley, even though her arms were dappled with goosebumps. Maggie, in a short-sleeved, white cotton shirt, had no choice but to stay put too. She
hugged her arms tightly to her sides.
‘There’s something else I need to discuss with you,’ she said, trying not to shiver.
‘Is it about Kathryn? Belmar said you’d gone round to talk to her. He and Mack are upstairs in the study with a man from your press office, talking about the reward. Apparently it
will be difficult to retract it, but if Mack makes up some sob story about saying the wrong amount because of the stress he’s under we might be able to get away with reducing it.’ She
shook her head.
‘Isn’t that what you want?’
‘Part of me is starting to think Mack’s right. Why shouldn’t we offer what we want to get Rosie back?’ Lesley sighed again. ‘I wish we hadn’t won a single
penny. I wish that instead of buying that bloody ticket I’d done what I was going to do and spent the money on a KitKat. But I was on a diet.’
Maggie tried not to smile but couldn’t help it.
‘I know, it’s mad, isn’t it? Right now I’d rather be fat than rich. Oh, I know what you must be thinking: You’re wealthy, how hard can it be? But money divides
people,’ said Lesley bitterly. ‘What I’ve learned in this past year is that people who have money like to think they’re better than those who don’t, and those who
aren’t wealthy think people who are always flaunt it. It’s impossible trying to please everyone.’
‘So why bother? Why not ignore what other people think and just enjoy the money?’
‘That’s easier said than done. People can be vicious.’
‘Like the people round here?’ said Maggie, curious to know what living in a place like Haxton meant for a lower-middle-class family like the Kinnocks.
Lesley nodded. ‘It’s difficult. People look down their noses at us because of where we’re from. There’s this unspoken snobbery that we’re not good enough for
Haxton. If it wasn’t for Rosie’s exams, I’d move again.’ She paused. ‘Sorry, you wanted to ask me something, didn’t you? Instead I’ve been going on about
KitKats and moaning about money.’
‘It’s fine, I was happy to listen. But you’re right, I do want to talk about Kathryn. Although, before we do,’ she began tentatively, ‘can I just ask if Rosie owns
any high-heeled sandals? Lime-coloured?’
Lesley raised an eyebrow. ‘No, and frankly they sound hideous.’
‘Okay, I thought as much.’
‘Why are you asking?’
‘I can’t tell you at this stage, I’m sorry.’
Lesley shrugged resignedly. Maggie knew it wasn’t because she didn’t care, but because she understood and trusted there was a very good reason not to tell her yet. It made
Maggie’s job much easier: the hardest cases were when relatives were so suspicious they refused to let anything lie.
‘So, about Kathryn. Have you ever had concerns about her and Rosie’s friendship?’
‘None at all. She’s lovely.’
‘How often do they see each other out of school?’
‘I’d say pretty much every day, usually when they’re riding. Rosie’s a bit scared of horses but she still goes. All the girls she knows ride.’
‘Has Rosie mentioned anything about falling out with Kathryn recently?’
Lesley gave her a searching look. ‘What’s this really about?’
Maggie told her about the email Rosie had sent to Cassie.
‘Oh my God,’ said Lesley, stunned. ‘Rosie’s being bullied and Kathryn’s involved?’
‘That’s what the email says, but Kathryn has categorically denied it. She was very upset when we brought it up.’
‘Rosie wouldn’t lie about something like that,’ said Lesley, rubbing her brow roughly with her fingers. ‘Kathryn’s meant to be her best friend. Why is she ganging
up on her?’
‘Rosie doesn’t give a reason in the email.’
‘You know, now I come to think of it, I do remember her coming home with a cut on her nose, right across the bridge, about a month ago. She said someone knocked into her during netball
practice but that must’ve been when she was hit.’
‘Rosie didn’t send the email from her usual account. She used an old AOL address and Cassie told my colleagues it was the one she had before your win.’
‘She’s right. Rosie stopped using it when people she didn’t know kept emailing her asking for money. She also locked her Instagram and Twitter accounts so she’d be left
alone. The things people used to write to her were just awful. If they weren’t asking for money, it was grown men hassling her to go out with them because they’d seen her picture in the
papers.’
‘Did you report any of the men?’
‘I wanted to but Mack said he’d deal with it. I think he replied to them threatening to tell the police if they didn’t leave her alone and that did the trick.’
‘I would’ve thought that for someone as protective of their child as Mack is, calling the police would have been his automatic response to her being threatened.’
‘He wanted to sort it out himself,’ Lesley said hotly. ‘He likes to think of himself as our protector.’
Maggie let it slide for the time being.
‘What’s odd,’ she went on, ‘is that Rosie didn’t log on to the AOL account using her phone or her iPad. We’ve accessed the account and there are no other
recent emails from her, so we need to know what device she used instead. We can trace the IP address but that takes time. It’s quicker to just ask you what other computers she has access
to.’
‘Well, none at home. Mack doesn’t like her using his laptop and I don’t have my own. Perhaps she wrote it at school?’
‘The message was sent on Sunday. Maybe she went to an Internet cafe?’
‘Impossible. She was here all day with me on Sunday, and Mack had his laptop with him in Scotland, so I have no idea . . . Oh!’ Lesley suddenly jumped up from the step. ‘I
think I know where she might’ve sent it from.’
‘Really?’ said Maggie, clambering to her feet.
‘Come with me.’
Lesley shot through the kitchen, across the entrance hall and up the stairs as Maggie struggled to keep pace. On the landing they turned left, away from Rosie’s bedroom with the crime
scene tape snaking back and forth across the doorway. Lesley came to a halt outside a door opposite the one leading to the guest room where Maggie had showered earlier. As she went to open it,
Lesley paused, the knob half turned in her hand.
‘You can’t tell Mack about this. We can make up something else about where it came from, but I don’t want him to know. It’s meant to be a surprise.’
‘Lesley, I—’
She released the knob. ‘Then we don’t go in.’
‘I’m family liaison to both of you,’ said Maggie. ‘It would be unprofessional to lie to him on your behalf.’
‘I’m not asking you to lie – I’m just asking you not to say anything. There’s a difference.’
‘I really can’t.’
‘Fine. Let’s go back downstairs.’
Burying the thought of what Umpire would say if he found out, Maggie gave in.
‘Okay, I won’t say anything, but neither can you. If DCI Umpire finds out I agreed to this I’ll be in a lot of trouble.’
‘Deal.’
Lesley opened the door and they stepped inside a bedroom that was marginally smaller than the guest room Maggie had used. An antique fitted wardrobe covered one wall and the only other furniture
was a day bed. The window was bare of curtains.
‘This is the smallest bedroom and we never use it,’ Lesley explained. ‘Or rather Mack doesn’t. I use the wardrobe to store some things he doesn’t know
about.’
Lesley retrieved a key from a little glass pot on the windowsill and unlocked the doors to reveal more than a dozen boxes stacked neatly in two columns. They were fairly big – Maggie
estimated around four times the size of a shoebox – and each one had a number written on the side in thick black marker, from one to fourteen.
‘What are these?’ she asked.
‘Every year to mark Rosie’s birthday I make her a birthday box. I put in things like books, school projects and holiday souvenirs: anything that’s a nice reminder of what she
did in the year leading up to her birthday.’
‘What a lovely idea,’ Maggie exclaimed.
‘I know exactly what’s in each box too,’ said Lesley proudly. ‘Her first Barbie doll is in number six. The first Valentine’s card she received, from a boy in her
class, is in ten. Box number twelve contains Justin Bieber posters but One Direction have since replaced him in her affections and box fourteen is pretty much filled with stuff relating to them.
Box number one is my favourite though. It’s got her first baby-gro, first dummy, first shoes, first teddy bear, the first lock of hair we had cut.’