‘Court order?’ Murphy asked.
Gardner shook his head. ‘Not yet. If Abbott refuses or if we don’t get hold of him soon then we’ll take it to a magistrates but we don’t have enough yet.’
Gardner continued but could see Atherton starting to sway. Every so often one of the team piped up and Gardner couldn’t help but notice Atherton seemed more interested in what they had to say. Even Murphy.
‘So,’ Atherton said when he’d finished, ‘basically what we have is absolutely nothing. And when I go down there to brief the media I’ll have to tell them we have absolutely nothing?’
‘We’ve got the appeal which is nationwide,’ Gardner said.
‘Anything come out of that?’
Gardner shook his head. He knew what Atherton was getting at. Although appeals often produced results in some form or another by digging up witnesses and refreshing memories, they were often used as a tool to pile pressure on the family and friends of victims who were potential suspects. It often worked but Gardner couldn’t help feeling it was a cynical ploy, especially when those family members were innocent.
‘We’re looking into several angles, including child trafficking,’ Gardner said. ‘We’re liaising with Interpol regarding any known trans-border gangs.’
‘Good,’ Atherton said. ‘Is that it?’
‘One more thing,’ Gardner said as people started moving. ‘As you should all know, the details of Mrs Henshaw’s attack have not been released. She’s requested that the rape not be made known to the media. So far it’s been kept under wraps, let’s keep it that way.’
‘Right, people, let’s get on with it. And let’s try to actually get something done today.’
Gardner turned away from Atherton and found Lawton staring at him. She gave him a smile that made him feel worse.
‘Cartwright,’ he heard Atherton say behind him. ‘Good work.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Cartwright said and Gardner tried to walk faster but the stairs were clogged with people making their way out of the briefing. ‘I just wish I could’ve done a bit more. I’d like the opportunity to lead an interview. Or at least sit in. But it wasn’t possible yesterday.’
‘Well, we’ll see what we can do about it.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
As Gardner turned on the stairs Cartwright caught his eye and grinned. Little prick. If he sucked up any harder he could quit his job with the police and start his own vacuuming business.
‘So I’ll see you tomorrow night then,’ Atherton said to Cartwright over his shoulder.
‘Wouldn’t miss it, sir. The big five-oh.’
Gardner tried to swallow down the bile he felt creeping up his throat. It was probably just the coffee.
Chapter Fifteen
Abby looked down at Beth’s empty crib. She held the small, pink fleece blanket against her face, letting the tears soak into the fluffy fabric. She sensed Paul was behind her but didn’t turn. He stood a few feet away, trying to decide what to do.
‘Maybe you should lie down, Ab, try and get some rest,’ he said.
Abby kept her face pressed hard into the blanket. She hadn’t slept at all after coming home from the police station. They’d arrived home to pitiful glances from neighbours and some flowers on the doorstep that reminded Abby of when her parents died. But no one was dead this time. She couldn’t be.
After standing by Beth’s crib for a few hours, Paul had led her into the bedroom and made her lie down in his arms. Sometime around three he had fallen asleep. Abby felt a combination of jealousy and outrage. Part of her wished she could sleep too. That if she slept long enough she’d wake to find everything back to normal. The other part, the larger part, felt anger at him for being able to sleep while Beth was out there somewhere with a stranger. At around five she’d got up and made a cup of tea, which had been on the kitchen table all day.
Paul sat watching the TV, re-runs of the appeal. Abby couldn’t bear to watch it. She hadn’t even changed, she was still wearing the clothes she’d put on after being examined. A smart-looking woman had briefed them and Abby agreed to speak the words the woman had prepared for her. But as they filed into the room in front of the cameras and microphones, she couldn’t speak. Thoughts of the bastards that hurt her, that took Beth, coursed through her mind. She wanted to scream. She wanted to beg. She tried to focus on the words in front of her, determined to stick to the script. The words swam in and out of focus. Abby reached for her face to check she had her glasses on. Finding them where they should be she realised that the tears were the cause of the blur. She felt like she was reading underwater. Her daughter’s name came out of her mouth but it sounded wrong. She looked up into the bright lights of the cameras and tried to remember the words she was supposed to say. Under the desk she felt Paul’s hand on hers and then realised he was speaking. She looked down to the script and noticed it was gone.
Then it was over.
The people beside her were moving. A hand was around her arm, lifting her from her seat. She could hear her name being repeated until it faded out and she was in the car on the way home.
So now she stood next to Beth’s crib. She had no idea what time it was. When was the last time she’d eaten? Slept? When was the last time she’d seen her daughter? She’d heard the door a few times. Heard the voices of neighbours they rarely spoke to, friends they hadn’t seen for years. The phone rang constantly. She heard Paul mutter thank you over and over. She heard him answer a few questions and then say ‘no comment’ again and again like some well-rehearsed politician. She could hear noise outside and guessed there were reporters out there. But she stayed where she was, beside Beth’s crib. She knew she shouldn’t leave Paul to deal with everything but she was too tired, too scared to do it herself. Listening to it all made her head hurt. If she let her mind drift from the thought of Beth sleeping peacefully in her crib she felt the pain of realising she was gone. She saw the hatred in the eyes of the man who raped her. Could smell his breath. She gripped the side of the crib and dug her fingers into the wood.
A creaky floorboard reminded her of Paul’s presence and she turned to him. ‘In a while,’ she muttered although she couldn’t remember what he’d said. Paul stroked her fingers lightly with his and then turned and went back downstairs to watch their performance over and over on the news.
Abby pulled her mobile phone from her pocket, staring as its silence mocked her. She knew she should call Simon but had no idea how to start. She wondered if Gardner had found him, had told him.
She looked down at the phone again, clicked her way into the pictures folder, bringing to life the last photo she’d taken of Beth. She caressed her daughter’s pixelated hair with her thumb and tried not to think about what was happening to her at that moment. She stared into the phone for an answer when the ringing of the doorbell shook her out of her reverie. She heard Paul answer and this time he didn’t say, ‘no comment.’ She could hear his voice but not the conversation.
Abby raced down the stairs, her heart pumping out of her chest, praying that it would be Gardner holding Beth in his arms. Paul stood with the door half-open, whispering to someone, his face twisted in anger. Abby’s foot on the creaky stair made him stop. He turned to Abby and then walked wordlessly back to the living room. Abby squeezed herself between the stairs and the open door to find Jen on the doorstep. The sight of her friend looking so deadly serious, so completely out of character, was too much for her. Jen stepped forward and took Abby in her arms. Abby ignored the shouts from outside.
‘God, Abby, I’m sorry.’
Abby clung to her friend and tried to rein in her tears. After a while she stepped back and Jen closed the door. Abby led Jen through to the kitchen.
Abby glanced around, looking for something to do. She picked up the cold cup of tea and poured it down the sink. ‘Tea?’ She stared down at the bowl in the sink, still showing traces of the banana Beth had eaten yesterday morning. She ran her finger over the edge of the bowl. She felt Jen come and take her by the elbow, guiding her to the kitchen table.
‘I’ll do it,’ Jen said. Abby took a seat and laid her palms flat on the patchwork tablecloth to stop them from shaking. Jen didn’t say anything and the only noises were from the filling and boiling of the kettle, the cups being dragged from cupboards and the scraping of spoons around the ceramic.
When she finally took a seat next to Abby she took her friend’s hand. ‘How are you feeling?’ Abby looked into Jen’s eyes and gave a slight shake of her head. How could she describe how she was feeling? Jen shook her head. ‘Sorry, that was a stupid question.’
Abby took a deep breath and made an attempt to smile. She knew if the circumstances were different and she was the one trying to provide comfort she would’ve opened with the same question, banal as it was.
‘I just can’t believe it. I keep thinking that it’s a mistake. That Beth’s fine, tucked up in bed and it’s someone else who’s...’ Abby bit at the loose skin on her lip. ‘I keep checking, going up and looking in her crib thinking she’ll suddenly appear but she doesn’t.’
‘I know,’ Jen said stroking Abby’s hand.
Abby watched as Jen’s eyes filled with tears. She held back a sob and her friend squeezed her hand before letting go. She hadn’t told her friend what had happened to her. What those men had done. She couldn’t. She couldn’t say it out loud.
‘What have the police said?’
Abby rubbed her hands over her face. ‘They have no idea. They thought that maybe someone just took her because she was alone, but if that was true they would’ve brought her back by now, wouldn’t they?’
‘I guess...’
‘No one has come forward. No one saw anything, or heard anything.’ Abby let her hands drop. ‘They’ll want to speak to you.’
‘I’ve spoken to them.’
Abby paused. ‘When?’
‘Yesterday. This morning. They came by yesterday and told me what’d happened. Had a look around. Asked me loads of questions. I wanted to come by last night but...’ Jen said as she pushed her hair back behind her ear. ‘I spoke briefly to that detective, Garner?’
‘Gardner,’ Abby said.
‘Right. And then I went to the station this morning and spoke to someone else. A fat bloke?’ Abby shrugged. ‘Anyway, they just asked me how long I’d known you, what our relationship was like. They wanted to know who I told about you coming up yesterday.’
‘They asked me that too.’ Abby watched Jen, unsure whether to say what she was thinking.
‘What?’ Jen asked.
‘Did you tell anyone?’
‘No. Who would I tell?’
Abby shrugged.
‘So that’s it? No leads?’ Jen asked.
‘No. Not yet,’ Abby said folding her hands around her hot cup. The warmth felt good, it was such a relief to feel something else, something different to the pain. She rocked the cup and the tea swirled around making mini whirlpools. ‘Where were you yesterday when I called?’
Jen froze with her cup midway between her mouth and the table. ‘Do I need a solicitor present?’ she said, smiling slightly.
‘Of course not, I just wondered where you went. I tried you on both phones.’
‘I went out to the shop for more milk and tea. Those bloody builders are drinking me out of house and home.’
‘Builders?’
‘Yeah.’ She looked at Abby, puzzled. ‘What? What’s wrong?’
‘Where are they from?’ Abby said.
Jen shrugged. ‘Someone recommended them to me, I don’t know if they’re in the book.’
‘No. Where are they from? Are they local? Are they foreign?’
‘The boss is from London I think. I suppose that’s foreign.’ Abby just stared. ‘The other two, I don’t know. One never speaks. The other, maybe he’s foreign, I don’t know. I never really paid them that much notice. I just tell them what I want doing and take them cups of tea. Why?’
Abby stood and went to the phone. ‘Did they know?’
‘Know what? What’s going on?’
‘Did they know I was coming out to see you?’ she said while dialling, her voice raised with anxiety.
Paul stepped out of the living room. ‘What’s going on?’ Abby asked for Gardner then moved the phone from her mouth while she waited.
‘Did they know, Jen?’
Jen shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. They could’ve heard me on the phone I suppose but...’
Abby moved her mouth back to the phone. ‘Detective Gardner? It’s Abby Henshaw. I need to see you.’
Chapter Sixteen
Miklos stared at the small TV in the corner of the room. The curtains were closed giving the room a strange orange glow. At least it disguised the shit-brown carpet and the flea-bitten quilt. Damek was lying on the other bed, cigarette in hand despite the no-smoking sign by the door.
Miklos licked his lips and glanced at his cousin. He wasn’t even watching. He looked like he didn’t give a shit. Which Miklos knew was probably true. He turned back to the TV and watched the police giving details about where it’d happened. They mentioned the van, the road. If anyone saw anything...
Then the woman. The woman was to speak. Miklos swallowed hard. She stared out, her eyes glassy. Beside her the woman’s husband slid a sheet of paper from in front of her and started talking. Miklos didn’t really listen to what he said. He was looking at the woman. The woman he’d taken yesterday. He knew her name now. Abby Henshaw. He hadn’t been told that before. He wasn’t sure if Damek had known but
he
didn’t know. But then he didn’t know a lot. Hadn’t been told lots of things. Like the baby. He hadn’t been told about the baby. And now the baby was gone.
The news moved on to something else and he switched it off. He turned to Damek who stubbed out his cigarette on the table beside the bed.
‘Are you hungry?’ Damek asked. ‘I could eat.’
Miklos just stared at him. He didn’t care at all. Didn’t care about that woman. About the baby. He didn’t care that they could be caught. He didn’t care about anything. He watched as Damek stood and pulled his trousers on.
‘We have to do something,’ Miklos said.
‘About what?’
‘About that,’ Miklos said and pointed at the TV. ‘About what we did.’
Damek sat down and started pulling his shoes on. He didn’t even turn around. ‘We got paid, didn’t we?’ He pulled on the other shoe. ‘Where do you want to eat?’
‘Listen to me,’ Miklos shouted. ‘The baby was taken.’
‘So?’ Damek shrugged. ‘Not our business.’
‘They think we took her.’
‘So?’ Damek shrugged again. ‘Think what they like. We don’t have a baby. They don’t even know who we are. They’re looking for a white van,’ he laughed. ‘How many white vans are there?’
‘They had our pictures,’ Miklos said and walked round to stand in front of Damek. ‘They could find us.’
‘It didn’t look like me,’ Damek said and stood up. He patted Miklos on the shoulder. ‘Not handsome enough,’ he said and grinned.
Miklos thought about the sketches the police showed. Damek might be wrong about many things but he was right about the pictures. They looked nothing like them. But that wasn’t the point. ‘We have to do something. We could call and tell them what we know. We don’t have to say our names.’
Damek slapped Miklos on the side of the head. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ he said. ‘Besides we don’t know anything. We don’t have the baby.’ Damek slipped on his jacket. He stepped up close to Miklos, bent down to look him in the eye, and put his hand on his throat. ‘And we don’t know who does, right?’