After Anna (11 page)

The words hung in the room like an accusation. DI Wynne shifted uncomfortably in her chair, evidently aware how it had sounded; Brian looked out of the window.

Julia pushed her coffee away. It was cold, undrunk since DI Wynne had brought it for her. Since Anna’s disappearance, the smell of food and drink had made her nauseous. Even though she’d seen the CCTV, she had her own image of what had happened: Anna walking out of the gates, looking around for her mum, or dad, or grandma, some of the other parents glancing at her, then settling on their own kids, bending down to kiss them and ask them how the day had gone while Anna moved to the edge of the crowd, still searching for her parents.

And maybe someone taking notice who shouldn’t have and asking her if she was ok, then taking her hand and walking away with her before anyone could notice.

And it was her fault. Never mind the school. Maybe they could have done more, but at root it was her fault. If she had been there, then it wouldn’t have happened. She knew Brian would try to blame them, try and sue them, but what was the point? It wouldn’t bring Anna back.

She began to cry, then looked away, embarrassed at her grief. She had no right to it because she had only herself to blame.

‘Mrs Crowne,’ DI Wynne said. ‘We can stop if you need to, but there are a couple of other things I wanted to mention.’

‘I’m fine,’ Julia said. ‘Keep going.’

Wynne looked at Brian. ‘I was wondering whether you have any more information on your father’s whereabouts? We haven’t been able to trace him.’

‘No,’ Brian said. ‘I asked Mum. She doesn’t have an address for him.’

Wynne nodded slowly. ‘I see. We would really like to interview your father.’

‘Are you saying my father is a suspect?’ Brian said. ‘That’s ridiculous!’

‘No,’ Wynne replied. ‘I’m not suggesting that. But we would like to talk to him. Anything – irregular – is of interest to us. So if you do you have any information that might be of use, we would appreciate it.’

Julia looked at Brian. He stared at the floor. If he was not going to say anything she was. If it helped get Anna back she had no choice.

‘He may have run away with someone,’ she said. ‘A teacher at the school. She went at the same time. I don’t know her name.’

‘That’s fine,’ Wynne said. ‘That should give us enough to go on. We’ll be able to find out who she was.’

Brian gave Julia a hard, unforgiving look, then turned to DI Wynne. ‘Anything else?’ he said.

‘One other thing,’ Wynne responded. ‘We may get crank callers. People who claim to have seen Anna or even to have her in their custody. Obviously we will follow every lead, but we need something we can use to identify who might be a legitimate caller.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Brian. ‘You expect people to give you false information?’

The detective nodded. ‘It often happens,’ she said. ‘People leave anonymous tip-offs claiming to have seen a missing person, or sometimes they claim to be the perpetrator.’

‘Why?’ Brian asked. ‘Why would they do that?’

‘I don’t know,’ Wynne said. ‘Some people have nothing better to do. So we tend to hold back a piece of information.’

‘Like what?’ Julia said.

‘Something they would only know if they were with Anna.’

Julia nodded. ‘She has a birthmark,’ she said. ‘It’s a rough circle, about the size of a ten pence piece. On her right hip.’

She could picture it clearly. When Anna was first born she had disliked it as a sign of imperfection. She’d gone so far as to ask a doctor whether it could be removed, and the doctor had said it could, but she might want to think about it before doing anything, especially, as it was in a place that was normally hidden. He told her that in some cultures birthmarks were seen as signs of divinity, as though the bearer had been touched by God and marked out for special things. Julia had gone home and thought it over and decided to leave it. Whatever it was it was part of her daughter and she decided not to interfere with it. Over the years she had grown to almost like it; many times when Anna was in nappies she had kissed it before covering it up. It was their secret, known only to them.

And now the birthmark, that private thing in a place normally hidden, was now an
identifying mark
. This one fact represented everything that was wrong. It made everything hard and real and irrevocable and Julia could no longer hold herself back.

She started to cry, and she did not know how she would ever stop.

4

The Second Day

i.

You found it a bit pathetic, as well as, frankly, stupid:
You can go free. I promise you that. I won’t let anyone do anything to you. I don’t care about justice or anything like that. I just want my daughter back
.

You would never have done that, never have appeared so weak. How did she think that a person who could plan and then implement what you have done – to take a child in broad daylight – would be impressed by such a display of weakness? The girl’s mother should have appeared strong, threatening, powerful; that might have worried you, made you fear her. Respect her, even. But that snivelling display? Why would you care about someone like that? And the father? Even worse.

It actually had the opposite effect. It just proved that you were right, that what you had done was for the best. Was a
necessary evil
.

Did she really think that she could sway you –
you
– with her wet-eyed entreaties? Did she think that you would see her on television and think to yourself
oh, the mother wants her daughter back, I never thought of that, better pop out and drop her off back home, then
? Did she think that you had done all this, just to hand the girl back? What kind of fool was she?

The kind that lost a daughter in the first place.

The daughter. Still there, drugged, silent. Beautiful.

Her time was coming. It would be a little while yet, but not too much longer, at least, you hoped not. It was a shame to see her like this, locked up like some kind of trophy animal, although she would know nothing of it, have no memories of it. There was not much you could give her, but that, at least, was in your gift.

As for you? You keep on waiting, waiting for the right moment to come.

And when it does, you will act. You will end this.

ii.

In an emotional press conference yesterday, the parents of missing five-year-old Anna Crowne appealed to any members of the public who might have information about the disappearance of their daughter to come forward. Mrs Julia Crowne also made a direct plea to any potential kidnappers, saying ‘And if you have her, if you’re watching this, then please bring her back. Bring her back to her home. Just bring her back and this will all be over. I won’t do anything to you. You can go free. I don’t care. I just want my daughter back.’

Speaking after the press conference, a spokesperson for the police said that there were few leads at present but that the investigation would continue to examine the evidence.

When questioned as to how a young girl could go missing in broad daylight without anyone noticing, the spokesperson said that the police had no comment to make at this stage. The spokesperson also declined to comment on speculation that the police were treating this as an abduction case, rather than a simple disappearance.

Henry Collins, a former major in the Army who now specializes in abductions, claimed that it was often the case that abductions took place in the most routine of circumstances.

‘People will notice something out of the ordinary,’ he said. ‘Perhaps a child alone at night or leaving a school outside of normal hours. But there is nothing exceptional about a child and an adult leaving a school together at the end of the day. Provided that the child was not being taken against its will then many people would simply not notice this.’ He added that this was especially true in today’s world. ‘A generation ago people would have known all the other mothers at the school gates and a strange face would have stuck out. Nowadays there are all sorts of people picking up children – nannies, babysitters, friends, grandparents – and people have become accustomed to new faces at the school gates.’

When asked about Anna’s possible whereabouts, Collins was pessimistic.

‘She could be anywhere by now,’ he said. ‘Eastern Europe is the likeliest destination, but there is no way of knowing for sure. The police will have descriptions of Anna out at every major port and airport, but European borders are porous and she could be easily—’

Julia closed the browser. The story was all over the internet. And it wasn’t just in the UK. It was all over the world. It seemed that humanity shared a common interest in missing children.

The efforts of the police were also international. DI Wynne informed her that across Europe police forces were actively engaged in searching for Anna, which, the detective explained, meant that they were monitoring borders more closely, checking the internet for any relevant information and extending feelers into their intelligence networks – informers, grasses, whoever they knew – for signs of any unusual activity. There was every chance that they would find Anna, she said. Every chance.

Julia suspected the detective had thought that knowledge of the scale of the effort would bring comfort. It didn’t. It brought terror. It highlighted how serious this was, how many countries Anna could be in by now. It brought home just exactly what kind of people were involved in kidnapping children, and reminded Julia of the fates that could have befallen her daughter: slavery, sexual abuse, murder.

When she had followed similar news stories in the past she had thought mainly of the parents’ grief at their loss, assumed it was like the death of a child. Now she was in that position she saw that it was much worse. Not only did she have to face the sense of loss, she also had to come to terms with what Anna might be suffering, and that was worse, infinitely worse. To think of her daughter, so young, so perfect, so innocent, in the hands of a paedophile gang was a torture worse than any grief; it made her wish that Anna had been sold to a rich, childless couple who would at least love her. There was no respite. If she wasn’t grieving for herself, she was torn apart with worry for Anna. Each was like an open sore, the other the salt that was rubbed in. It was pulling her apart.

Julia also understood that she was powerless. There was nothing she could do. It was not a question of knocking on doors or searching house by house in the neighbourhood. The idea that Anna’s destiny was in her hands was a romantic fiction.

All she could do was wait and try not to read the news. It just made it worse.

Which didn’t stop Brian. He barely looked up from his laptop, other than to replenish his whisky glass. She’d asked him about it; he said he was looking for Anna. At first Julia had not understood, so she’d pressed for details.

Chat rooms
, he said.
Places in the dark recesses of the internet, places where some men go to find what they want. I might find her there.

Julia had a feeling that he might. But that if he did, he might wish he hadn’t.

iii.

Julia closed the front door behind her. She couldn’t stay in the house any longer, couldn’t abide the silence, broken only by the tapping of Brian’s fingers on the keyboard of his laptop as he performed his pointless cyber-search.

Listening to it infuriated her. Was that all he could think of to do? But then what was she doing? What could anyone do?

She decided to go to the park. Perhaps there was a corner that had not been searched, a bush under which Anna was now sleeping, still in her school uniform, the uniform that Edna had suggested they buy a few sizes too big for her so that she would grow into it.

Julia had hated the uniform, hated the specialist private school outfitters where they bought it, hated that they were doing what Edna suggested and that her daughter would look ridiculous in an outsized blazer and skirt. Now though, all she wanted was Anna to grow into her uniform. She would have given anything to see that happen.

The first day at Westwood School she and Brian had dropped Anna off together. They’d walked her to her classroom, admired her desk, kissed her goodbye. She was fine, confident and outgoing, secure in their love. She waved them a breezy farewell; they were not handling it so well. Julia had cried as she left, cried to see her little girl growing up, tears both of sadness and pride.

This time, Brian did not hug her.

She’ll be fine
, he said.
See you after work. You’re picking her up?

Julia nodded, and off he went. That might have been the first time she realized it was over between them, that whatever separated them was unbridgeable, that, most damning of all, she simply didn’t love him.

She walked to the end of her street, and, as she turned into the main road, she passed a man, his springer spaniel wet with sweat yet still straining at the lead. He nodded and smiled, then his face froze as he realized who she was. She saw him hesitate, almost miss a step, then carry on, looking ahead. She saw the pity in his eyes.

It was no surprise that he recognized her; after all her face was all over the news. She was famous, but it was a strange kind of fame. It was not the kind that drew people to you, that caused them to approach with a pen and paper and tell you they loved your show, or well played at the weekend, and then ask for your autograph; it was a rare kind that drew people’s stares but not their company. She knew that no one would approach her. They would just watch her and pity her.

There she is, searching for her daughter
, they’ll be thinking.
But it’s pointless. That little girl is long gone.