Gone Astray (19 page)

She went straight to his message inbox. The first few text exchanges were from the golf friends he’d gone to Scotland with, asking if they could do anything to help. That did not include,
she noted, cutting short their trip.

The fourth message thread stopped her in her tracks. It contained three texts, all from a contact Mack had saved as Suzy B. It had to be her, Suzy Breed. The first text read:

Any news? xoxo

The message had been sent that morning but Mack had not replied. Frowning, Lesley scrolled back further. Yesterday evening there was another one, again with no reply from Mack.

Let me no if I can do anything 2 help. xoxo

Still on the floor, Lesley leaned back against the bed. The text speak irritated her irrationally. Suzy must’ve got in touch with Mack after hearing the news about Rosie and, she reasoned,
he lied because he knew she’d be jealous and didn’t want to add to her distress. She was about to put the phone down, embarrassed and annoyed with herself for not trusting him, but the
urge to keep reading was too great. The third message sent by Suzy B had arrived at 9 p.m. yesterday, around the same time Mack’s plane landed at Heathrow. Now she understood why he’d
lied about being in touch with her.

I won’t tell any1 u were wiv me. xoxo.

His knuckles throbbed as he pummelled the wall next to the television, hitting it with as much force as he could muster. He paid no attention to the smears of blood he was
leaving on the paintwork or the damage he was inflicting upon himself. With every punch he imagined it was Mack Kinnock’s stupid face he was hitting and reducing to a bloody wreck. He slammed
his fist into the wall again, consumed by fury. The money that bastard had just offered for a reward was HIS. They OWED him.

Thoughts of what his life might be like had he objected to Lesley Kinnock pushing ahead of him in the queue at the petrol station that day drove him demented. That instead of being gentlemanly
and saying nothing when she ducked between him and the man in front, muttering something about being late for work, he’d said no and told her to join the back of the queue like everyone else.
But that wasn’t how he’d been raised. She seemed stressed and upset and his act of selflessness made him feel good about himself. He didn’t even mind when she held him up even
longer by darting out of her place to snatch a EuroMillions slip from the stand and fill it out for a Lucky Dip ticket, like he had already done.

It wasn’t until four days later that he read in the local paper she’d scooped the £15-million jackpot. At first he tried to laugh it off, the cruel twist of fate that meant the
winning numbers randomly spewed out by the computer went on her ticket and not his. He tried not to think about what he could have bought with the money, how he could have finally got his back
sorted out, knowing it was an exercise in futility. But when he saw the picture of the house they’d bought in Haxton a few weeks later he snapped. The very least Lesley Kinnock could do was
compensate him for his good manners.

He hit the wall again. The pain felt good.

Eventually he slumped against the wall and laid his cheek against it. His head felt swollen, as though his brain was pushing against his skull, only he knew it wasn’t a symptom of his
imagination. In the last month a painful ridge had developed on his forehead above his eyebrows. Concerned, he’d posted a question about it on a forum for steroid users and was told it was
probably cranial swelling and almost certainly a side effect of the human growth hormone he stacked alongside twice-weekly testosterone shots to build up muscle and the Equipoise he injected daily
to combat water retention. Throw in the Nolvadex he took to stop abnormal breast growth and it was a heady cocktail he ingested just to stay upright.

It took a few minutes for the white noise in his ears to stop hissing and for his heart rate to return to normal. As his thinking became clearer, he knew he needed to move forward with his plan.
He had to establish a way for the parents to get his money to him, a secure drop-off point. He knew the area around their house well thanks to the hours he’d spent watching them. But with the
police about, it wasn’t going to be simple . . .

His thoughts were interrupted by one of the phones on his coffee table ringing. It was her, calling from Scotland. He debated for a moment whether to pick up, then rationalized that to ignore
her might force her into a lone act of stupidity, like telling the police about them.

‘Hey, you okay?’ he said, trying to sound like he was pleased to hear from her.

‘No, I’m fucked off. Have you just seen what’s happened?’

‘The press conference? Yeah, I’m watching it now.’

‘If he can stump up a million just like that, he can give me a few more thousand. He’s not returning my messages though.’

You stupid bitch
, he wanted to yell at her. If she kept hassling Mack, he might crack and confess everything. That would be a disaster. He fought to maintain a passive tone, knowing he
couldn’t afford to rile her.

‘I thought we said it wasn’t a good idea to get in touch right now.’

‘I don’t care,’ she said petulantly. ‘Time’s running out for me. I’ve only got a couple of weeks left to sort this out.’

He knew he couldn’t wait that long either. She was becoming a liability and he needed to get shot of her before she did something that got them both arrested. Suddenly he had an idea.

‘Look, why don’t you come down here? Get the overnight sleeper to King’s Cross again and I’ll meet you at the station in the morning. Then we can decide the next move
together.’

He’d already made one person disappear. He could do it again.

Her voice brightened. ‘Are you sure? Because that would be great. I’m going nuts up here on my own.’

‘Of course. I’ll even pay for your ticket. Like I’ve said all along, we’re in this together, Suzy.’

Maggie decided to take another quick detour before heading back to Haxton. The gym where Lou’s husband Rob was a member was off Mansell High Street and on her way to the
taxi rank. She knew he’d be there because he always went to the gym before his evening meal, creature of habit that he was.

The shops still in business on the high street were closing up for the day, so there was little foot traffic to slow her down. When Maggie was young, the thoroughfare had been the hub of the
town centre, with an independent department store, furniture shop, chemist and upmarket jewellers doing a roaring trade alongside the generic chain stores. Every Saturday and Tuesday a market would
set up along its pavements, including a record stall from which she and Lou would buy badges featuring their favourite bands to pin on their schoolbags. Now every other store was a charity shop and
the only place that seemed busy was Poundland. The chains had long since migrated from the high street across town to the new shopping centre and with more shops now than any other kind of
industry, the only reason to move to Mansell was the forty-seven-minute train commute into the capital. In the years she’d lived there, Maggie had witnessed its forlorn transformation from a
bustling town with a proud sense of identity to an extended London suburb.

The gym was down a side road off the high street. It was council-owned but managed by a private contractor. Maggie persuaded the young girl on reception to let her through to see Rob without
having to resort to flashing her warrant card.

Her brother-in-law had grown even bigger in the two months since Maggie had last seen him. Always toned and fit, his arms were now as beefy as hunks of meat hanging in a butcher’s window
and his chest muscles strained against the front of his old Nirvana T-shirt as he pulled weights on a machine known as the pec deck. Maggie tried not to gape at his neck, which was now roughly the
same width as his shaved head.

Rob didn’t stop when he saw her, not even when she stood right in front of him. The gym was half full and a few people working out watched them curiously. Maggie guessed she must’ve
looked odd as the only fully dressed person in there. She wouldn’t give Rob the satisfaction of asking him to stop and waited patiently until he finished his reps. Finally he acknowledged her
presence.

‘Whassup?’

He sounded like the meathead he looked and until the end of her days she would never get what Lou saw in him. Whatever redeemable qualities he had, they were invisible to her.

‘Mind if we have a chat?’ she said. If he wasn’t going to start off with hello, neither would she.

‘About what?’

She resisted the temptation to give a sarcastic answer like ‘world peace’ or ‘the merits of wind turbines’. She was pretty certain he wouldn’t get irony.

‘Lou, of course.’

Rob slowly wiped his face on a hand towel bearing the gym’s logo. She knew he was trying to give himself more time before answering but she was no longer in the mood to be patient.

‘You can’t just stop paying her the money you owe her,’ she said. ‘It’s for Mae.’

‘It’s got fuck all to do with you, Maggie.’

‘It does when she’s upset and can’t afford to pay her bills. You have a responsibility to her and Mae.’

‘I know, but what can I do? I’ve got bills too.’

She looked down at his feet. ‘New trainers?’

‘Lisa paid for them.’

Maggie crossed her arms.

‘You can’t just bail on Lou and leave her skint.’

Rob’s cheeks, already puce from his workout, turned an even darker shade of red.

‘Who the fuck do you think you are, telling me what I can and can’t do?’

The anger in his voice unnerved her but Maggie tried not to let it show.

‘Look, I’m worried about her, that’s all. I’ve just been round there and she’s really upset. It’s affecting Mae.’

He wiped his face again.

‘Okay, I’ll try to pay her by the end of the week. Someone owes me a few hundred and I’m due to get it tomorrow. She can have that for now.’

‘Thanks,’ said Maggie, and she left it at that. She didn’t care who was giving him the cash or why, just that they were.

She arrived back at Angel’s Reach to find Belmar in the kitchen with a message for her from Umpire.

‘He said he tried to call you but there was no answer.’

‘My phone was in the bottom of my bag and I didn’t hear it ring,’ she lied.

She’d let the call go to voicemail for two reasons. Firstly, she didn’t want him to know she wasn’t back at the house with the Kinnocks yet, and secondly, she needed time to
compose herself before she spoke to anyone. Lou bringing up Jerome and her confrontation with Rob had unsettled her and it took the return journey from Mansell to Haxton in a taxi to clear her
head. By the time the concrete sprawl of homes, shops and industrial units gave way to green fields and wide avenues lined with trees and houses only accessed by driveways, she was focused
again.

‘Where did you say I was?’ she said.

‘Just busy.’ He smiled. ‘Do you want a coffee? I was about to make one.’ He took a jar of Nescafé Gold Blend from the cupboard next to the fridge. ‘Instant
okay? I can’t work out how to use their coffee maker.’

‘No, I’m fine. What did Umpire want?’

‘He wants to speak to Kathryn Stockton. Some new information’s come to light about her that sounds pretty significant. Yesterday Rosie’s old friends in Mansell claimed they
hadn’t heard from her for months. But after the press conference aired, one of them – a girl called Cassie Perrie – rang the incident room and asked to change her statement. It
turns out Rosie emailed her on Sunday.’

‘Sunday just gone? Saying what?’

Belmar spooned coffee into a mug, fastidiously levelling the measure out first by tapping the teaspoon against the inside of the jar.

‘Rosie wrote that she hates living in Haxton because she’s being bullied by some girls she knows and, get this, she named Kathryn Stockton as being involved when one of them
assaulted her after school recently.’

‘You’re kidding,’ said Maggie.

‘That’s what the email said. Rosie claims she was ambushed and Kathryn just stood there and let it happen.’ Steam lifted from the coffee’s surface and Belmar blew on it.
‘You look shocked,’ he said.

‘That’s because I am. If it’s true, Kathryn puts on a bloody good act about being her friend. She seemed genuinely upset yesterday.’

‘Maybe she was upset because she was worried we’d find out about the bullying,’ said Belmar. ‘Ballboy wants you to arrange with Sarah a time for him to call round
today.’

‘Why isn’t he interviewing her at the station as a significant witness? Shouldn’t her statement be recorded?’

‘He doesn’t want to make that leap yet. I’m guessing he doesn’t believe there’s necessarily a link to the bullying and Rosie going missing and wants to check it out
first. Hauling a sixteen-year-old in for questioning is a pretty big step to take. I mean, do you peg Kathryn as the crayon writer?’

‘No, I don’t, but she was the last person to see Rosie,’ Maggie pointed out. ‘Why does he want me to speak to Sarah and not you?’

‘He didn’t say but it’s fine. I’m just glad he hasn’t brought up the reward. I really thought he was going to ask if I knew. Even though I’ve filled in my log
like you said, I still wouldn’t know what to say to him.’

Maggie just about managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes. While she appreciated it was only Belmar’s second case as an FLO and he didn’t want to screw up, she also
didn’t want to keep having the same conversation about what Umpire might or might not say about Mack offering the reward.

‘He’s not mentioned it to either of us, so you need to forget about it,’ she cautioned. ‘Seriously, or you won’t be able to do your job properly. The only thing we
should be concerned with right now is supporting Lesley and Mack. We’re looking at another night with no sign of Rosie.’

‘I know, I know. Poor kid. What do you think has happened to her?’

‘I don’t think she’s run off willingly, but I want to believe she’s still alive for Lesley and Mack’s sake.’

‘Yeah, me too.’ He took another sip. ‘Do you fancy a biscuit? I saw some Hobnobs in the cupboard.’