Missing (32 page)

‘Nothing’s been confirmed yet,’ Stella told her. ‘We’ll know more later, but I thought you’d like to be kept informed of what was happening. Soon as I has any more news I’ll give you a call. Or Sharon will. She asked me to send her love, by the way, and tell you we’m all looking forward to seeing you. And that boy of your’n, if you wants to bring ’im. Got plenty of babysitters in us, don’t forget.’

‘Thank you,’ Vivienne smiled, her heart swelling with their warmth. ‘And tell Sharon not to worry, everything’ll be all right. We’re all rooting for her.’

Stella chortled with pleasure. ‘You’m a good girl,
Vivienne.
Knew that the first time I met you,’ and without as much as a toodle-pip she was gone.

‘What was all that about?’ Alice demanded as Vivienne put the phone down.

‘Pete, where are you?’ Vivienne shouted.

‘Making a Lego car,’ he shouted back. Then, carrying his fellow mechanic into the office, ‘I heard some of the call, so what’s going on?’

As she began filling them in Vivienne was searching for Al Kohler’s mobile number. ‘I’ll have to warn him that we could be up against the clock now,’ she said. ‘Just pray it doesn’t affect their decision. They won’t know whether it will, of course, until we can tell them how soon they need to set up the transmission.’ Connecting with Al’s voicemail she quickly left a message explaining what had happened, and after telling him to get back to her, she said to Pete, ‘We should take a camera with us tomorrow to record an interview with Sharon, just in case they admit her before we can get her on air. Or maybe Al will be able to spare a crew to come with us.’

‘He’ll have to send someone to recce the auction room,’ Alice pointed out.

‘We need to find out what sort of schedule our firemen are on,’ Vivienne continued, glancing at Kayla who was saying into the phone, ‘No problem, I can hear you. I’ll buzz you in, but make sure no one forces their way in with you,’ and pressing a button on the wall behind her she released the downstairs door. ‘Theo’s arrived,’ she announced, an enormous grin lighting up her face.

Vivienne turned to Alice. ‘Who arranged for all my prayers to be answered at once?’ she demanded.

Laughing, Alice said, ‘I’m sure I told you he was
coming
today, but I should have reminded you.’

‘You mean I shouldn’t have forgotten.’

‘You’ve had a lot on your mind.’

The door opened and a tall, dark-haired young man with eyes the colour of a tropical sea and a smile to dim the sun strode into the office, wearing a full complement of motorbike leathers, including the boots, with a helmet tucked under one arm and a huge bunch of flowers in the other.

‘Oh my God,’ Pete murmured, starting to swoon.

Grinning, Theo said, ‘Hey Pete, see you’ve got yourself a new car,’ and as the others laughed he dumped the flowers on Alice, kissed her roundly, then went to swing Rufus up in the air. ‘Hello, little fellow,’ he cooed. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.’

Rufus gurgled with pleasure and tried to reach for the dark lock of hair that fell over Theo’s brow. Letting him take it, Theo leaned sideways to plant a kiss on Vivienne’s cheek. ‘I suppose that lot down there are hanging about for you,’ he said, ‘but they got me instead. I told them I was your other son.’

Vivienne spluttered with laughter, loving him for being so relaxed. ‘Welcome on board,’ she said, moving round the desk to give him a proper hug, and enjoying the way he held both her and Rufus in such an encompassing embrace. ‘I’m afraid you could find the ship is sailing much sooner than you think,’ she warned. ‘I’ve just had a call from Sky, they’re going to televise us.’

‘Fantastic news!’ he declared. ‘Apart from a couple of things I can’t get out of, I’m yours for at least the next month. So make use of me in any way you can.’

Behind them Pete whimpered weakly, and slumped down in his chair.

‘Sssh,’
Kayla
said sharply as they laughed, ‘they’re saying the police are about to make some kind of announcement in the Avery case,’ and reaching for the remote control she turned up the sound on the TV.

With trepidation gathering like weights in her heart, Vivienne turned to watch the plasma screen on the wall. DI Sadler, apparently in conversation with someone out of shot, was standing behind a small bank of microphones while the gathered press waited with notebooks, recorders and cameras poised.

‘Bet they’ve found her,’ Pete murmured.

As though sensing Vivienne’s reaction Theo’s arm closed a little more tightly around her shoulders, while he held the bouncing Rufus on his other side.

‘OK, right,’ DI Sadler said, leaning towards the mikes. ‘This is just a short statement to keep you up to date. The search around the area where Timothy Grainger’s body was found is continuing, but I should stress that, contrary to some rumours we’ve been hearing, there has been nothing so far to suggest that Mrs Avery herself was ever at the location. Some of you have been asking for details about the person who came forward with information about Mr Grainger, but I’m afraid the person concerned has asked not to be identified. We are satisfied at this time that neither Mr Grainger, nor the person who was with him at the scene, is in any way connected to the Avery family.’ He looked off camera as someone spoke to him, then to the mikes he said, ‘Thank you. I think that’s about all we can tell you for now.’

A front-row reporter cut in quickly. ‘Have you found any fingerprints or DNA that doesn’t match Mr Grainger’s or his friend’s?’ he asked.

‘At this time there is no evidence to suggest anyone
else
was at the scene,’ Sadler replied affably. His head went up as he pointed to someone close to the back.

‘Rob Logan,
News of the World
. Is it true you’re reopening the case of Mr Avery’s missing son?’

Sadler’s expression immediately darkened. ‘No, it is not,’ he responded shortly and gestured for another reporter to go ahead.

‘Julia Green, ITV West. Presumably you’ve asked Mr Avery if he knows, or knew, Mr Grainger, so can you tell us what he said?’

‘Mr Avery denies knowing Mr Grainger,’ Sadler replied, looking straight at her.

Vivienne’s heart tightened at the cynicism in Sadler’s tone, never mind the unspoken message he seemed to send to the reporter. ‘Turn it off,’ she said to Kayla, and taking Rufus from Theo she carried him back to her desk.

‘Hang on, someone’s just asked if the search for Jacqueline is happening anywhere else besides Devon,’ Alice said.

Vivienne drew Rufus in warmly against her, while her lacklustre eyes returned to the screen.

‘The TAG team has spread out further onto the moor now,’ Sadler was saying, ‘and another house-to-house is being conducted in the area.’

‘So you’re convinced she never left Devon?’ someone pressed.

‘No evidence has come to light so far to confirm that she did.’

‘Detective Inspector,’ someone else piped up, ‘do you think she’s still alive?’

Sadler fixed the questioner with a gaze that seemed to pass straight through her. ‘If she is,’ he answered, ‘we’d like to know why she hasn’t come forward?’ He
shrugged
expressively and let his meaning drift into the room.

As Kayla lowered the sound Vivienne hid her face in Rufus’s neck, knowing they were all looking at her now.

‘It’s a good point,’ Pete said quietly. ‘If she is still with us, why hasn’t she contacted someone?’

Alice wasted no time answering. ‘She’s not always a rational woman,’ she reminded him.

Vivienne sat up, and as her eyes met Alice’s she said, ‘There’s something I’d like you to do for me.’

‘Of course,’ Alice said. Then added, ‘I have a funny feeling I already know what it is.’

Vivienne nodded, as though to confirm her instinct. Then hugging Rufus to her again, she turned back to Theo, whose mere presence was already making everything seem so much easier to handle. There was no doubt in her mind that his participation was going to make a world of difference from here on in, particularly where the press was concerned. Not that the mystery surrounding Jacqueline was likely to disappear from the front pages, but since the nation at large adored this young man, who wasn’t only a world-class athlete, but a natural-born entertainer, there was finally a fighting chance of getting some proper coverage for Sharon, the firemen and the auction.

The sound of the Critch’s voice made Justine wince as it barked down the phone. ‘Were you watching the news?’ he demanded.

‘Yes,’ she answered.

‘And you got the same impression I did?’

‘They still suspect him.’

The Critch chuckled. ‘It’s only a matter of time,’ he declared confidently. ‘As for you, Justie, you can count yourself lucky you found that email, because without it you wouldn’t just be toast by now, you’d be the scrapings under my boot.’

She made no comment.

‘So, have you followed up on it yet?’ he demanded.

‘No, I’m just—’

‘Well, what the hell are you waiting for? But go careful with it. If it’s real, it’s dynamite, and we sure as hell don’t want it blowing up in your pretty little face now, do we?’

‘I’d appreciate knowing I had your full backing before I go any further,’ she responded tightly.

‘Consider it yours, but you take this anywhere else, Justie, and Avery’s wrath is going to look like a pussy lick in comparison to what I’ll do to you.’

After ringing off Justine continued to sit on the edge of her bed, letting his words recede like grimy water down a plughole while she reflected on the effect the email’s contents had started having on her. At first she’d seen it only as the lifeline she’d needed to rescue herself from a rapid descent into the sad, alcoholic world of Fleet Street has-beens. She’d been as excited and urgent about it then as the Critch was now, but the more she read and considered it, the more it seemed to be sobering her – in fact, it was starting to reach her in a way she wasn’t quite sure how to handle.

With a growing sense of trepidation she went to sit down at her computer where the email she’d stolen from Miles was displayed full-screen. As she reread the words, which she could probably recite by heart, she was thinking of what a cruel and senseless tragedy it would be if Jacqueline’s body was found on the
moor.
She really couldn’t be sure if she suspected Miles now; she only knew that fate had not been kind to that family, and that Miles was as capable as any man of reaching the end of his tether. He wanted his freedom, had become almost desperate for an escape from the hell of never-ending grief into which Jacqueline had dragged them. He naturally wanted to be with the woman he’d loved – more than that, though, he would want to grasp the second chance life had given him to be a father to his son.

It wasn’t a difficult story to tell. Justine had concocted many like it over the years: families torn apart by the wanton vagaries of fate; tragic and understandable crimes of passion; love overcoming all! What she’d never had, however, was such a direct route to the heart of a family in crisis. The father whose background and character was already well known to her, the daughter who’d suffered years of maternal neglect, and the son – the missing son – who, if this email was to be believed, had been killed a long time ago.

She sat back in her chair, feeling the air go out of her. The curious thing was, this really could be the story of her career, yet instead of rushing ahead she was sitting here almost afraid to move on it. Perhaps, if something had come to light about it in her background checks on Sam’s disappearance, she’d be feeling less doubtful, but nowhere had she come across a single mention of anyone by the name of Elizabeth Barrett, the sender of the email. Clearly no one else had either, or the story would be out there by now, so what exactly was that telling her? That the email had been sent by a crank? Or from someone Miles had paid to keep silent?

Had she not already shown the message to the
Critch
she might be approaching this a different way now, but the man had scented blood and blood he would have, whether she got it for him, or he set someone else on the trail – and handing it over simply wasn’t an option she was going to allow.

Finally, sitting forward, she began entering a web address to create a new hotmail account. Once her bogus identity was set up, she opened a window and began to type, thinking of Miles and how, as an editor, he might handle this.

Dear Mrs Barrett

As Mr Avery’s lawyer, I am in receipt of a copy of your email in which you are making certain claims about his missing son. I’m sure you can imagine how many people have contacted Mr Avery over the years in regard to this matter, often causing the family considerable and unnecessary distress. It is for this reason that Mr Avery has asked me to contact you on his behalf. I shall be happy to arrange a meeting with you if you will be kind enough to furnish some proof of your claim, together with your name, telephone number and address.

With regards, Janette James

Miles’s way wasn’t the same as the Critch’s, and for now, like it or not, she needed to stay close to the Critch.

‘You’re not still puzzling over that envelope, are you?’ DI Sadler demanded, walking into CID with his coat
still
on and a cup of steaming coffee warming his hands.

‘I am, sir,’ DC Joy confirmed, turning it over inside its evidence bag. ‘It’s been bothering me ever since we found it amongst Mrs Avery’s effects. Why is it empty? That’s what I want to know. What’s happened to the letter, or whatever was in it?’

‘It might yet turn up,’ Sadler reminded her. ‘The boys are still out there.’

DC Joy continued to stare down at the badly soiled envelope with its smudged address, roughly torn opening and illegible postmark. Something about it wasn’t seeming quite right to her, though she couldn’t for the life of her say what, other than the fact that its contents were missing. It was as though, she was thinking, she was holding the key to an important door; the only problem was, she had no idea where to find the door. ‘The address is handwritten,’ she said, studying the blurred blue ink, ‘and most of it’s unreadable now, though it’s obviously Moorlands and her name is reasonably clear too. The sender’s address is missing. It must have come off when she opened the letter, because no little scraps have been found nearby, but there was definitely something, because the letters “mes” are still there on the back. Forensics are working their magic on the postmark, but no luck so far.’