Authors: Michelle Davies
There was a rap on the living-room door and Jude walked in. He was already dressed for school in grey trousers and a bottle-green jumper over a white polo shirt, and was clutching an exercise
book. It was always to her immense relief that he barely resembled his dad, as she couldn’t have coped with a constant living, breathing reminder of Jerome. Jude’s features instead
reflected Lou’s hazel eyes, her aquiline nose and wide, open face, similar to Maggie’s. The only nod to Jerome was his darker skin and tight, unruly curls.
‘Hiya, Auntie Mags. Mum said can you check my homework, then Mae’s nappy will need changing.’
Maggie smiled to hide her irritation at Lou dishing out orders again.
‘Of course. But if it’s long division, you’re stuffed. I was rubbish at maths at school.’
‘It’s French,’ he said, handing her the book. ‘I had to put some English words into French. Can you see if I’ve done it right?’
She didn’t want to admit her knowledge of French was probably on a par with his but when she checked over the homework, the phrases were basic enough that she could see he’d pretty
much got most of it right. A couple of mistakes she didn’t correct, reasoning he would never learn if she did all the work for him.
‘Looks good to me, sweetheart,’ she said, handing the book back. ‘Now scoot while I get dressed.’
Jude was almost at the door when he turned and looked at her shyly.
‘You will find her, won’t you, Auntie Mags? The girl whose mum and dad you’re helping.’
Lou must’ve said something to him about Rosie, because Maggie had pointedly made no mention of the case when she’d turned up the previous evening. Mindful of the boys being in
earshot, she’d kept the conversation to schoolwork and football and when they were going to reschedule their visit to Pizza Hut.
She gave her nephew a reassuring smile. ‘I’m doing my best, Jude, we all are. Hopefully we’ll have some good news soon.’
‘Was it her dad?’
Maggie was shocked. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘A boy in my class is on Twitter and he said people are tweeting the dad did it. He showed us at lunchtime.’
Ten-year-olds on Twitter, Maggie despaired, and at school too. She rarely used social media herself: the accounts she’d set up were purely for when she needed to look up something relating
to a case. She had no interest in sharing her private life with the world, especially when she knew just how far an electronic trail could spread. If people understood how vulnerable it made them
posting pictures and personal information online, the indelible fingerprint it left, they’d never surf the Internet again.
‘Firstly, if your mum found out you were looking at Twitter, she wouldn’t be happy. There are some not very nice people on it, trust me.’
‘Mum’s on it.’
‘Right. Well, it’s for grown-ups, not kids, okay?’
Jude nodded.
‘As for her dad, we already know he was in Scotland when she went missing, so whoever’s saying otherwise has got it wrong.’
Jude seemed satisfied with her answer, even rushing over to her for a quick hug before running out of the room. Her smile fell, however, when he yelled from the hallway, ‘Don’t
forget Mae’s nappy!’
She found Lou in the kitchen.
‘Oh good, you’re up,’ said Lou. ‘Can you take the boys to school?’
‘Sorry, I have to go,’ said Maggie, accepting the mug of tea Lou handed her.
‘Please, it’d be doing me a massive favour.’
‘I’m sorry, I’ve got to leave in a minute. Why can’t you take them?’
‘I want to take Mae to the doctor’s. Her cold’s gone to her chest.’
‘I’d love to help but I’m needed back in Haxton. Isn’t there anyone else you can ask?’
‘I could ask Toby’s mum but the boys would much rather go with you,’ said Lou as she mixed some white-coloured mush that might or might not have been porridge into a plastic
Winnie the Pooh bowl for Mae.
‘I know they would, but not today. I’m sorry.’
‘Bloody hell, can’t you just do this one thing?’ Lou snapped. ‘It’s only five minutes out of your way.’
Crabby from her hangover and a poor night’s sleep, Maggie wasn’t in the mood to be nagged.
‘Stop being so bloody bossy. Get my money, change Mae’s nappy, take the boys to school,’ she mimicked.
Lou looked wounded. ‘I didn’t realize it was such a big deal to help your family.’
‘Now you’re being ridiculous. I do enough for you already so don’t you dare give me a hard time about this. Why not ask Rob to do it? He’d love to see them.’
Lou’s face darkened. ‘What, are you on his side now?’
‘Of course not. But the boys want to see him and he could help you out. I can’t run around after you all the time.’
Instead of retaliating, Lou turned her back and began folding the pile of clothes on the ironing board set up in the middle of the kitchen. Being ignored only made Maggie angrier.
‘What about me, Lou? When do I get a life? Between you and the kids and work, I have no time to myself.’
Lou laughed bitterly.
‘You chose that job, sis. You’re the one who wanted to be the bloody saviour of families, running around like a cross between Supercop and Supernanny. Don’t complain to me if
it’s too much for you.’
Maggie exploded.
‘No,
you’re
too much. You and these sodding kids of yours. I’ll tell you what, you find some other mug to take them to Pizza Hut because it bloody well won’t be
me.’
Maggie stormed out of the kitchen – and barged straight into Jude. One look at his face told her he’d heard every word. Immediately she felt awful and sank to her knees in front of
him.
‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that about taking you to Pizza Hut. I’m just a bit tired,’ she said, reaching out for him. ‘Please, come
here.’
He backed away and the look he gave her was like a kick to the stomach.
‘Please, Jude. I didn’t mean it.’
‘Go away. I hate you!’
He ran upstairs and seconds later his bedroom door slammed shut. She thought about following him upstairs to talk him round but knew that if she didn’t leave now she’d never get to
Haxton by 8.30. She’d have to make it up to him later. Again.
The atmosphere in the kitchen was thick with tension. For the first time since Tuesday, Lesley resented the police presence. She wanted to be left alone with Mack and to not
feel like their every move was being scrutinized. The situation was starting to feel forced, like she was having to act her role, and it exhausted her to the point of making her bones ache. And she
was worried about Mack. After his revelation about Suzy Breed blackmailing him, he had become withdrawn and last night refused to sleep in the same bed as her, saying he preferred to sleep
downstairs. When she’d crept down to the kitchen in the early hours for a glass of water she’d found him sitting in the lounge in the dark, crying his eyes out.
He was sitting opposite her now, head bowed, reading a report in the
Independent
about Rosie’s disappearance. Belmar had tried to talk them out of reading the papers again and
Lesley had laughed at the absurdity of his concern.
‘Our daughter’s been missing for three days and you think we’re worried about headlines?’ she told him. ‘I lie awake wondering if she’s dead in a ditch
somewhere and you think what some bloody reporter writes will upset me?’
‘We also know what people are writing about us, or rather me, on the Internet,’ Mack chimed in, waggling his BlackBerry in the air.
‘You shouldn’t read that stuff,’ said Belmar. ‘It’s written by idiots who don’t know any better.’
‘People believe what they read though.’
‘We know you were in Scotland, Mack. End of story.’
Eventually Belmar relented and sent someone to get the papers, which they were now reading at the breakfast table. Lesley couldn’t face eating and left the toast Belmar had made to go cold
while she sipped a cup of tea.
Rosie’s disappearance was still front-page news. Lesley had the
Daily Mirror
in front of her and on the front page was the blurred CCTV image from the garage with a plea to the
public to help identify who was in the queue. DCI Umpire was quoted as saying none of them was a suspect at this stage – they just needed tracking down so they could be ruled out of the
inquiry.
Anger shook her as she gazed down at the paper. That someone might hate her so much for winning that they’d abducted Rosie was incomprehensible. What kind of sick person did that? Why did
money matter so much to some people? It made her want to give every penny away and live on handouts.
She turned the page and let out a cry as she was confronted by multiple images of her daughter. There was Rosie as an apple-cheeked toddler, giggling as she tried to pull an ornament off a
Christmas tree; gap-toothed and hair tied in bunches for her first school photo; at a bowling alley celebrating her thirteenth birthday with friends; and, finally, Lesley’s favourite picture
of her at Disney World, taken down from the corkboard in the kitchen. Snapshots of Rosie shared with every newspaper, website and broadcaster in the hope they would prick the conscience of whoever
had her or knew where she was. Lesley traced her finger over the most recent picture, the one she’d given to the police on Tuesday after reporting her missing. A tear rolled down her cheek
and splashed onto the page.
‘Hey, it’s okay, love,’ said Mack as he reached over and put his hand on hers. It felt warm and reassuring. She met his stare and shook her head.
‘I know,’ he said, ‘I know.’
They sat for a few moments with their hands clasped. Then Maggie walked in, looking so solemn Lesley could only assume the worst. Mack must’ve thought the same, because he immediately got
to his feet. Lesley, however, couldn’t find the strength to stand.
‘There’s no news. I’m sorry,’ said Maggie.
Lesley burst into tears as Mack erupted.
‘I don’t know how much more of this I can take,’ he said. ‘Why the fuck haven’t you found her yet?’
To Lesley’s horror, he began thumping his fists down on the table, sending plates and cups crashing to the floor. She tried to stop him but he shrugged her off.
‘Mack, please—’
‘Leave me alone,’ he howled. ‘Just leave me the fuck alone.’
As Belmar tried to placate him, Maggie ushered Lesley into the hall.
‘Let’s give him some space,’ she said. ‘Why don’t we go for a walk?’
‘We can’t leave him like that,’ Lesley cried. ‘I’ve never seen him in such a state.’
‘Belmar will look after him.’
‘No, I should stay with him.’
‘I really think Mack could do with being alone. Belmar knows to call if he needs us.’
They walked down Burr Way towards the meadow. Before they left, Lesley had belted a cream-coloured raincoat over her denim skirt and navy T-shirt but Maggie only wore a suit
jacket over her thin cotton shirt and she pulled it tighter around her as the wind nipped at her exposed skin. The temperature had cooled again and it felt like the heavens might open at any
point.
‘Which way shall we go?’ she said, fervently wishing she had a jumper on under her jacket.
‘If we cut along there we could go to the riding school,’ said Lesley, pointing to a pathway on the right. ‘The people who run it are lovely.’
‘Does Rosie have her own horse?’
‘No, but she tries to ride the same one every time she goes. I think it’s called Hoff.’
They walked in silence, with Lesley leading the way. Brambles and stinging nettles reached out to claw her bare legs and Maggie was grateful to be wearing trousers.
The path led to a narrower one, until eventually they stumbled out by the side of a wide, uneven road covered in shingle. Up ahead, Maggie could see what looked like a cluster of farm
buildings.
‘That’s the riding school,’ said Lesley. She started to walk up the track but Maggie stopped her. She’d bided enough time.
‘Before we go in, I need to ask if Rosie’s in the habit of using initials to abbreviate people’s names, like when she’s sending texts or emails?’
Lesley looked baffled.
‘Do the initials GS mean anything to you? We think she used them to describe someone she met recently. Someone male,’ said Maggie, deciding to be honest.
‘I have no idea. Have you asked her friends?’
‘A couple, but they had no idea either. Talking of which, do you know if any of the girls Rosie hangs out with have boyfriends?’
‘I think Lily might. I once overheard Kathryn tell Rosie that Lily couldn’t go riding one weekend because she was going to the cinema with some boy from a school in Mansell.’
Lesley’s face clouded. ‘I suppose I should say sorry to Kathryn’s mum for banging on their gate yesterday.’
‘I think it’s best if you stay away from the Stockton family for now.’
‘Why? In case I lose my temper again? I’m sorry, but I can’t just sit back and pretend none of this is happening. I mean, Kathryn’s at our house all the time. Why would
Rosie ask her round if they weren’t getting on?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘No, you don’t and neither do I. I can’t make sense of any of this.’
Maggie kept quiet. She could see Lesley was getting agitated.
‘But you know what I
really
don’t understand?’ she went on, her voice getting louder, ‘is why you haven’t found my daughter yet. I don’t understand
how she could just disappear from our garden, covered in blood, and you find no trace of her.’
‘We’re doing our best,’ said Maggie lamely.
She could almost feel Lesley’s frustration burning off her. She wanted to say she felt the same, that she was just as desperate for Rosie to be found, but she didn’t think it would
be well received. Or believed.
‘It should be easy with all the technology you police have got – DNA, tracing phone calls, CCTV images. Why is none of it working?’
Maggie suddenly held up her hand. ‘Wait – did you say tracing phone calls?’
‘Well, yes,’ Lesley blustered, ‘but that’s not—’
‘I’m such an idiot! Why didn’t I think of it before?’ Maggie exclaimed. ‘Emma Mitchell told me last night that Rosie called her on her mobile last week. She said
Rosie’s number came up on her phone, but the call never showed up on the records for the iPhone that Rosie left in the garden. I thought it must be a mistake but it couldn’t have been.
Lesley, how long has Rosie had her iPhone?’