Читать книгу Never Out of Sight: The chilling psychological thriller you don’t want to miss! - Louise Stone - Страница 12

Stephen walked through the door just over an hour later, having looked around the village and surrounding area first. He had told me to stay at home and phone around her friends and teachers. I hadn’t argued: I was unable to think straight and, for once, I needed Stephen to guide me, to tell me what to do.

‘Where is she, Stephen? Where is she?’ I paced the room, my voice strung out like an elastic band. I looked at the clock, counting the minutes since I had put the phone down to the police. ‘Why would she send a text saying she’s staying over with Keira and then…’ My voice cracked, the cancerous lie threatening to show on my face. ‘And then… not turn up?’ My hand rushed to my mouth and let out a long, drawn-out cry. ‘Why didn’t I check with Angela if she was there? Why didn’t I?’ I stopped and stared at Stephen, hoping he hadn’t spotted my lie. ‘Why didn’t you talk to her? Why didn’t you text her? You’re always in contact with Zoe.’

‘I don’t know,’ he replied, sorrow etched across his features. ‘I thought you had. Actually…’ He gave a shake to his head. ‘I didn’t think that. It just never occurred to me that this would happen.’ He pushed his hand through his hair. ‘It’s Chilcote, you know?’

I stared at him, unspeaking, guilt twisting at my heart. For every moment I had cried when she was a baby, I felt the leaden weight of it in times like this. Right now, I wanted to find her, bring her home and hold her tight. Never let her go. Never let her out of my sight ever again. I was filled with self-loathing at my inability to open up to Zoe, to tell her I loved her, but every time I went to say it, something held me back. The words were there – the power of my love for my daughter was unreal – but I couldn’t speak the words. Now, I thought of my own parents: they never once told me they loved me. Instead, I would watch my father lash out once again at my mother. It became the norm and now, I realised, my heart sinking, I was doing the same to my own daughter.

‘Our daughter’s missing. We should have been there for her.’ I started to circle the kitchen again. ‘You tried the village close? The shop?’

He nodded.

‘Where else might she be? That record store in town?’

‘At the end of the day, she could be anywhere. But she’s never ignored my texts before.’ He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. I noticed how tired he looked, like a man who hadn’t slept. ‘She spent the night somewhere. A whole night somewhere,’ he said, his voice tinged with despair. ‘She won’t be at the record store.’

‘How can you be so certain?’ I raised a brow.

A heavy silence sat between us before he said, ‘We just need the police to arrive.’

‘She has to be somewhere. Think, Stephen. Think.’ I paused. ‘She might have run away, like I said.’

‘But why?’

‘I don’t know,’ I admitted.

Stephen eyed me. ‘For no good reason? If a child ever runs away, I’d say that they’re trying to tell you they’re not happy about something.’

‘Well, you’re not happy living with me.’

‘And vice versa.’

‘Well, I don’t just run away, do I?’ I felt the familiar knotting in my stomach as I said the words. I wanted to take them back.

‘No, but we are not a vulnerable sixteen-year-old girl.’ His jaw tightened momentarily.

I remained silent, my heart beating wildly despite my sudden stillness.

‘Freya. Sit down.’ Stephen shifted in his chair and placed his hand firmly on the seat of the one next to it. ‘The police will be here soon. We’ll speak to them. You and I both know that this is not normal for Zoe, that she wouldn’t leave on a whim.’ His face hardened with worry.

I roughly brushed away the tears wetting my already tear-stained face. I felt sick, my stomach churning with a strange mixture of self-reproach and hate for the man in front of me who would never, could never, understand.

The doorbell rang and I rushed from the kitchen to the front door, pulling it wide open.

A broad-shouldered man, with an angular face, peppered grey hair and wearing a charcoal suit and white shirt, stood on the doorstep. ‘Dr Hall? DI Simon Carter, Senior Investigative Officer.’ He offered his hand.

I took it briefly and noticed how dry it felt next to my clammy one, and ushered him inside. ‘Come in.’ I led him through to the living room. ‘She’s been missing for hours, Detective,’ I said, unprompted. ‘At least, her best friend hasn’t seen her since Thursday and she’s not replying to our texts.’

He nodded, took out a notepad and biro and perched on the edge of the sofa. ‘If I could just be sure that we have the right details on the system? Let’s start at the beginning. What’s your daughter’s full name and age?’

‘I’ve already told you,’ I rushed, deciding not to sit down. ‘Her name’s Zoe Hall, she’s sixteen, goes to Burford College. Her best friend, Keira, saw her on Thursday but she said Zoe was ill and never turned up to college yesterday.’ I paused. ‘She phoned a couple of hours ago asking after Zoe as they had arranged to go into Oxford today, apparently.’ I stopped suddenly, aware of how ridiculously foolish I sounded. ‘What do you want to know?’

He frowned. ‘When did you notice her missing? You talk as if you haven’t seen her for days.’

Stephen joined us, briefly shaking hands with the officer.

I ignored him and ploughed on. ‘Hours. She’s been gone hours.’ I perched on the opposite armrest on the sofa and met his eye. ‘I thought she was at a friend’s house, so she could have been missing for hours.’

‘It’s the first twenty-four hours that are crucial, so you did the right thing getting in touch,’ he said. ‘But I must ask you again, when did you actually last lay eyes on your daughter?’

‘Yes, Freya,’ Stephen said, turning on me, ‘when did you?’

I heard the accusatory tone in his voice and I swallowed hard.

‘Thursday evening,’ I said quietly.

‘So you didn’t see your daughter for the whole of yesterday?’

I nodded. ‘That’s right.’

Stephen looked at me. ‘Why didn’t you see her yesterday morning before college? She was ill, apparently, Freya. You should have…’ His words trailed off.

‘I had to leave early to go to the office, get some papers marked before a seminar.’ I pushed Robert from my mind.

‘I take it you’ve phoned around her friends and your own friends?’ said the DI.

We nodded.

‘Checked out her favourite…’

‘Places to go? Yes,’ I interrupted, impatient.

‘Is this normal behaviour?’ The DI continued to jot notes in his pad, even though I felt there was nothing worth noting down yet.

‘Normal behaviour?’ I cast my eyes towards Stephen. ‘If it were, we probably wouldn’t have needed to phone you, would we? So, no, it’s not normal behaviour. I spoke to her from the office on Friday and she asked to stay at Keira’s on Friday night.’

I thought about the text conversation with Zoe: she had been brief, seemingly agreeable, but it pained me as I realised that I hadn’t actually found the time to speak to her.

‘Actually,’ I said, swallowing hard, ‘I didn’t actually speak to her. I remember now, she had texted me, and I left her a message to say she could stay at her friend’s house. She didn’t say anything about being ill.’

DI Carter nodded slowly. ‘You didn’t check that she was there?’

I pursed my lips. ‘No. She’s sixteen. Not six.’

‘Keira…?’

‘Sullivan.’

‘Keira Sullivan. Does she live locally?’

‘Yes, at Rose Cottage on the next street. Drury Lane.’ I leant in towards him now. ‘You should go over there.’

DI Carter raised an eyebrow.

I caught sight of Stephen clenching his fists. ‘Freya, stop it.’

‘Don’t tell me to stop. I don’t know why you can’t see that Keira Sullivan is bad news. She may have once again led Zoe down the wrong path,’ I said. ‘I don’t trust Keira, I never have.’

Stephen looked at me, then at the detective. ‘She’s Zoe’s best friend, and Freya tends to blame everything on her.’

I blinked, shook my head. ‘No, I don’t.’

Stephen lowered his voice to a growl, puffed out his cheeks. ‘Yes you do. You don’t know what’s going on in your daughter’s life, and so when anything goes wrong you blame Keira. Never yourself. You even blame Keira for the trouble last year.’

I shot Stephen a look.

DI Carter frowned. ‘Trouble?’

I shook my head, wishing Stephen hadn’t brought it up. ‘They were just trying things out…’ My voice trailed off, my words left hanging in the air. I started to cry again, hot, salty tears soaking my shirt.

Stephen placed a hand on my back and rubbed firmly, almost too firmly. I looked at him, caught his eye. He thought my views on Keira irrational.

‘Dr Hall,’ DI Carter said soothingly, holding my gaze. Beside me I could sense Stephen’s temper rising. He always hated it when people called me Dr Hall – made him sound less than me somehow, just a mere mister, he’d said to me when we were designing our wedding invitations.

‘Mrs is fine,’ I said quickly. ‘Sorry, I meant, the whole thing with Keira and the drugs was a big misunderstanding.’

DI Carter made some more notes and said, ‘Drugs?’

‘It turned out Zoe got caught up in something silly with Keira and some other girls from school. They were just experimenting, it was nothing serious, blowing off some steam after finishing their GCSEs. But she and Keira both left that school and are now doing A-levels at Burford College.’ My lower lip trembled and I felt Stephen press his hand even more firmly into my lower back. ‘If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s probably mine. I should have been more vigilant.’ DI Carter frowned and I broke away from his stare. Stephen dropped his hand.

He nodded. ‘I’m assembling a team. We’ll need to look at her laptop, her things, and talk to her friends and teachers.’

‘Would you like to see her room?’ I stood and started to walk up the stairs, not waiting for the DI’s answer.

I entered Zoe’s bedroom with trepidation; I had come in here earlier, having got off the phone to the police, and ransacked the room for a note, for a clue, for anything. Now, I wanted to smooth the duvet cover, tidy away the books I had upturned in my frenzy. What if Zoe should walk in and see the mess? She would take it as an invasion of privacy.

The doorbell rang again and my stomach leapt before I realised Zoe wouldn’t need to ring the bell. Unless she had forgotten her key… I pushed past the DI, who was inspecting drawers in the desk with rubber-gloved hands, and ran down the stairs. Stephen had beaten me to it.

A woman in her forties and a man in his thirties stood on the doorstep. ‘Hi, we’re here for DI Carter.’

I nodded slowly, crushed with disappointment. ‘Upstairs.’

They gave a half-smile and made their way upstairs to join their senior. Stephen turned to me. He tried to take me in his arms, but I pushed him away. There was no time for the pretence of a happy marriage.

‘No,’ I said. ‘Not now.’

He let go.

‘How can you remain so calm?’ I asked. ‘Is it because you somehow think I’m at fault here and you feel like the virtuous parent? That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want me to spend the rest of my life wracked with guilt.’ I paused. ‘She’ll be back. She’s just trying to get our attention.’

‘What the hell are you going on about? Calm?’ I heard his voice pitch higher. ‘Calm? You think I’m calm? I can’t bear the lack of control I have over this situation. I feel sick, Freya, sick.’ I saw his chin quiver. ‘At first, I thought you might be right; that we were getting ourselves in a state over nothing. But she never ignores me, never.’ He rubbed his unshaven cheeks. ‘I’m not calm, Freya, trust me.’

I nodded, the fight leaving me. He was right; Zoe wouldn’t let it go on this long.

Then my thoughts reverted back to Keira. She was holding out on me, I just knew it. She knew something and I was determined to find out what. I would have to find out myself; I couldn’t tell Stephen my suspicions.

I went through to the kitchen and tried Zoe’s mobile again. It hadn’t even rung through earlier. Now, I couldn’t believe it: it rang.

I gasped, waiting with bated breath. ‘Please. Please.’ I made such a tight fist with my free hand, my arm twinged with pain. ‘Pick up.’

The tone stopped and there was a sound, someone breathing.

‘Zoe?’ I gripped the phone. ‘Is that you, sweetheart?’

The breathing caught, faltered and started up a regular rhythm again.

I pointed upstairs to Stephen to indicate DI Carter should pick up another phone; he needed to hear this. Stephen stood staring before spurring himself into action and running up the stairs two at a time. I heard murmured voices upstairs and then the click of another phone – probably the one in the bedroom – being picked up.

‘Zoe?’ My heart was pounding. I wanted to reach through the phone and hold her close. ‘Zoe?’

The line went dead.

I slid along the wall to the floor, the handset crashing onto the kitchen tiles. Footsteps on the stairs, in the hall.

DI Carter filled the kitchen door frame, darkening the room. ‘We’ll trace it.’

I nodded, silent tears coursing down my face once again. Stephen moved past DI Carter and sat next to me, drawing me into his arms. I stiffened with the unfamiliarity of it.

‘Talk to Keira,’ I said through my sobs. ‘She must know more than she’s letting on.’