Chapter Seventeen
Abby was relieved when the doorbell finally rang and raced to the front door. DI Gardner frowned at her as they listened to the sound of the raised voices coming from the kitchen.
‘You’ve always been a selfish cow. If she hadn’t been driving all the way out there to see you none of this would’ve happened,’ Paul said.
‘That’s not fair,’ Jen said.
‘I’m sorry, have I hurt your feelings? Are you feeling a little bit sorry for yourself? Or is it guilt that’s getting to you?’
‘Fuck you, Paul. Where were you then? Why weren’t you there to take care of your wife and baby?’ Jen said.
‘Alright, enough,’ Gardner said. Both Jen and Paul looked around like naughty children, suddenly noticing his presence. Paul turned away and grabbed the edge of the table, knuckles whitening, his breathing heavy. Jen folded her arms across her chest.
‘Sit down,’ Gardner ordered.
Jen pulled out a chair and sat. Paul lifted his head and shook it. ‘I can’t do this now.’ He brushed past Abby and grabbed his car keys from the table by the door.
‘Paul,’ Abby called out as he slammed the front door. Abby turned to follow but Gardner took hold of her arm.
‘Let him go. Give him some space.’
Abby looked back to the door, letterbox still fluttering, and then turned back into the kitchen and allowed Gardner to usher her towards the table. Jen’s arms and legs were crossed.
‘Do you want to tell me what’s going on?’ he asked.
Abby glanced at Jen and then back to Gardner. ‘Jen had builders at her house for the past week or so.’
‘Yes, I believe one of my team spoke to them yesterday.’ He looked at Jen and she nodded.
‘They might’ve known I was going there.’ Abby tried to make eye contact with her but Jen kept her face turned away. Abby couldn’t tell if it was because of guilt or anger. ‘They might be foreign,’ Abby said, and even as the words came out of her mouth she felt embarrassed, like she should be handing out leaflets for the BNP. A foreign builder? Of course he did it.
Gardner took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. ‘They
might
be foreign?’
Abby and Gardner both looked to Jen but she remained quiet. ‘Jen said one was from London but the other two could’ve been... foreign.’
Jen lifted her head. ‘I said I didn’t know. They could be from Middlesbrough for all I know,’ she said.
‘Are they still there?’ Gardner asked. Jen nodded. ‘Did they leave at all yesterday?’
‘No,’ Jen said, this time looking at Abby. ‘They were there from half eight to about five, I think.’
Abby felt her face burn. She hadn’t even considered asking if they had an alibi. It hadn’t even occurred to her to ask Jen whether they’d left her house. She closed her eyes.
‘I still want to speak to them again. You think they would have used the same road as Abby to get to your house?’ he said to Jen, who shrugged. ‘It’s possible they saw the van. It could’ve been hanging around there all day, or even another day.’
‘I suppose,’ Jen said and stood, scraping her chair across the kitchen floor. ‘We can go now. They’re still there.’ Abby opened her eyes once more, surprised to see Jen looking back at her. ‘Do you blame me too, Abby?’ Jen asked.
Abby shook her head and stood. ‘Of course I don’t. I’m sorry. I just want Beth back.’
Jen relaxed and moved around the table. ‘I know,’ she said and hugged Abby. ‘You’ll get her back, babe, you will.’
Chapter Eighteen
Helen Deal stared at the TV screen, her hands gripping her knees, her fingernails making half moons in her skin. A police officer was speaking on screen, asking for witnesses to come forward, but Helen’s eyes were on the woman. Her heart was beating fast. She had been there yesterday. She had sat there behind her in the doctor’s surgery. She had been there moments before this had happened. Should she go to the police? Should she tell them she was there, that she saw Abby Henshaw? That she saw the baby? What for? What good would it do anyone? She was panicking. She took a breath and turned to her daughter, fast asleep in the Moses basket. She looked so peaceful. So beautiful. She was everything to her. The thought of her being taken away was too much to contemplate.
The officer introduced Abby Henshaw. She stared into space. Her mouth opened and closed but nothing came out.
Why isn’t she screaming? Why isn’t she begging for someone to bring her baby home?
Beside her, Paul Henshaw pulled a sheet of paper towards himself and started to speak. His voice reedy, wavering, making the appeal his wife couldn’t make. Helen watched as his hands shook, his long fingers clinging to the paper. She wondered what was going through his mind. He looked like he could fall to pieces at any moment. But he couldn’t. He had to be strong. One of them had to be. For the sake of the child.
Helen turned down the sound and looked at the basket once more. She was sleeping so soundly. Helen reached out and touched her cheek. Her skin was so soft, so untouched. She knew she should leave her to sleep but she couldn’t help it. She needed to feel her, needed to hold on to her. Helen scooped her up and she made a soft groan before waking fully into a scream. Helen soothed her until she stopped but she didn’t really care. She appreciated every scream, every cry. At least it meant she was still there. She was alive.
The knock at the door made her jump. She gently put her daughter down and walked to the window, pulling back the net curtain just enough to peek outside. A policeman in uniform stood at the door. Helen dropped the curtain, switched off the TV and went to answer the front door, closing the living room door behind her.
‘Yes?’ she said, opening the front door. The officer stood up straighter before speaking.
‘Helen Deal?’ he said and she nodded. ‘I’m PC Cartwright. I’m just making some enquiries about an incident yesterday. Do you mind if I come in?’
Helen glanced over her shoulder before opening the door to let him in. ‘Of course not,’ she said. She led him through to the kitchen. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
‘No, thanks,’ Cartwright said, looking around as they walked through the house. As he glanced up the stairs he tripped on a child’s car seat. ‘This shouldn’t take long.’
‘It’s about that woman and the baby, isn’t it? I saw the news,’ she said, moving to stand by the sink. ‘I wondered if I should call the police but I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.’
‘How do you mean?’ Cartwright asked, taking his notebook from his pocket.
‘Well, I saw her. At the surgery. I didn’t know if you’d need to know about it.’
‘Did you see anything? Did you speak to Mrs Henshaw?’
‘No,’ Helen said. ‘We didn’t speak.’
‘And you don’t know her?’
‘No,’ Helen said. ‘I’ve never met her before.’
‘Did you see anyone else at the surgery, in the waiting room or outside? Anyone who seemed like they shouldn’t be there?’
Helen shook her head. ‘No, sorry.’
‘What about a white van?’
Helen shook her head again and PC Cartwright nodded. ‘What about when you left? Did you see Mrs Henshaw then? Was she with anyone?’
‘I didn’t see her leave,’ Helen said. ‘I went in to see the nurse and when I left I don’t recall seeing her again. I don’t think she was in the waiting room but I wouldn’t swear to it.’
‘Okay, Ms Deal. That should do it,’ Cartwright said, walking to the door. ‘If you think of anything, please don’t hesitate to get in touch. Sorry to have disturbed you.’
‘I’m just sorry I couldn’t help,’ Helen said.
Helen watched the officer walk across the street to his car. She waited until he was driving away before she closed the door. She went back into the living room and stared down at her daughter, fast asleep, once again. She wished she hadn’t been in the surgery yesterday. Wished she hadn’t seen Abby Henshaw. But as she brushed her fingers along her daughter’s chest, she realised how close she’d been to losing her and just how lucky she was.
Chapter Nineteen
After Gardner and Jen had left, Abby closed the door behind them, leaning her head against the glass. In the silence of the house she felt utterly alone. The truth was that part of her did blame Jen. A small part of her agreed completely with Paul. If it hadn’t been for Jen, she would still have her baby. If she hadn’t been driving out there to see her friend, maybe none of this would’ve happened. If only...
For the next few hours Abby was alone. Almost. While Paul was gone she’d answered the phone once and quickly regretted it. The reporter had bombarded her with questions. Abby screamed at her. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone? She wasn’t naive enough to think that would go untold to the baying public but she didn’t much care. All she cared about was getting Beth back.
Two neighbours from across the street, women Abby couldn’t recall ever speaking to, came to the door bearing gifts of soup and flowers. Abby felt like she was in a bad American film, that a pile of casseroles would be discovered on the doorstep in the morning.
Amy from work called her, promising to drop by, giving her condolences. Her boss, Jason, dropped in and talked for almost an hour, wanting every detail, pretending he was concerned. Abby had never known Jason to be concerned about anything or anyone other than himself and his company. But she thanked him and was grateful when he left.
Laura from the shop arrived soon after with enough tears that anyone would think she was the one who’d lost her child. That she was the one who’d been raped. Abby told her that Paul wasn’t there and thankfully the girl took the hint and left soon after arriving. Abby only answered the door because she was hoping it was Gardner. That he was back with news, that he’d found the men who’d done this. That Beth was safe and sound.
Chapter Twenty
Gardner watched as the builders slammed the van doors and disappeared down the drive. He got the feeling Ms Harvey might be needing to find new builders. They’d been polite enough when answering his questions but if looks could kill, Jen Harvey would currently be laid out in a body bag.
The boss was from London – Brixton to be precise, a place Gardner knew well from his early days on the force. The other two were Scottish and not exactly comfortable with eye contact. Gardner suspected they had something to hide but he was sure it wasn’t anything to do with Abby Henshaw and her daughter. At first he’d thought, alright, so none of them are Russian or Eastern European, but then maybe the guys in the van weren’t either. Mrs Henshaw couldn’t have known for sure. A fake accent might’ve been picked up under normal circumstances but if you’re being shoved into the back of the van you’re hardly going to be listening out for consistency. But he’d checked with the neighbours and both sides had confirmed that the builders and their van hadn’t left Ms Harvey’s all day. As one old guy put it, they hadn’t stopped with their ‘bastard banging and whistling all bastard day’.
Gardner turned from the window as the van disappeared and found Jen sitting at the kitchen table lighting a cigarette. She held the packet up for him but he shook his head.
‘So, they’re off the hook?’ she asked and inhaled deeply, tossing the lighter onto the table.
‘Probably,’ Gardner said. He’d look into them further, check if any of them had a record, but he doubted it would lead anywhere.
‘Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?’ Jen asked without getting up.
‘No thanks. I should be getting back soon.’
She nodded and took another drag. ‘You think you’ll find her?’
Gardner looked out the window. ‘I hope so,’ he said and turned back to Jen. ‘You mind if I take a look around?’
‘Feel free,’ she said and stood up, stubbing her cigarette out. ‘You know they had a look round yesterday though.’
Gardner nodded and pointed through a doorway covered in plastic sheeting. Jen walked over and pulled back the sheet. ‘Nothing but rubble,’ she said and Gardner stuck his head through. Tools were scattered about amongst the debris but that was all. He moved back into the kitchen as her phone started ringing. She glanced at the screen and answered. ‘Go ahead,’ she said to Gardner and then turned away, her attention with whoever was on the phone. ‘Hey, babe.’
Gardner walked out through the hall and into the living room. The house was a beautiful, old stone building. A perfect country cottage from the outside but Jen Harvey had butchered the inside, turning it into a minimalist shell. Plenty of white walls and Perspex furniture. He assumed the building work was to get rid of the remaining character left in the house. On the wall was a triptych of Jen. There were no more photos or paintings. There was barely anything at all. He moved on to the next room which he assumed was her study. On a small white desk was a laptop. The lid was closed, covered in dust. On the shelves were dozens of books, several with her name on. He took one from the shelf, glanced at the pink cover and flicked through it.
‘That was my first,’ Jen said and Gardner turned to look at her. ‘Sold it for a small fortune. Shame no one else bought it.’ She walked over and took it from his hand. ‘But it paid for this place,’ she said.
‘What about the others?’ Gardner asked, nodding to the other books on the shelf.
Jen shrugged. ‘They just about pay the bills,’ she said and put her book back in its place. ‘Listen,’ she said, putting her hand on his sleeve. ‘That was my editor. I have to go. Do you need to see anything else?’
‘No, that’s alright,’ he said and moved away from her. Gardner walked towards the front door. ‘Thanks for your help. I’ll be in touch.’
Gardner walked down the path and heard her close the door. He got in the car and waited for her to come out, wondering what could be so urgent. After ten minutes he saw her through the window, pacing up and down, her hands gesturing wildly. When she didn’t come out after another ten minutes Gardner started the car and drove away.
Chapter Twenty-One
Abby thanked Gardner for the update and hung up. There was nothing to report again. No sign of the van. No sign of the men. No sign of Beth.
No hope.
He’d called the night before to tell her there was nothing on Jen’s builders. She’d sat down, her head in her hands. What had she expected? She didn’t know what to say to him. Thanks? Thanks for what? For doing his job? For not finding Beth?