The Silent Twin (16 page)

T
o say
it’s been eventful would be an understatement. By the time I went back to the well, it was almost too late. The water was just a puddle when I first saw Abigail, sitting at the bottom, staring upwards through eyes from which she could barely see. She had even dug a hole, and sat on the mound as the water trickled in. I hadn’t expected to see it rise so sharply. An underground stream, perhaps, dislodged from the movement above land. Any later and she would have drowned. She mewed, weakly like a kitten, her puny arms reaching up to the light. To her, I was nothing but a blur. Why couldn’t I have left her there?

I am at war with myself. It’s too late for anything else now. But I won’t be rushed. And I can’t risk her discovery. That’s why I moved her. The rain has been both a curse and a blessing. I’ve had to work hard to keep the police off my back, and was grateful that it was washing away my tracks. But the mud and water made her extraction all the more difficult. Like plucking a tooth out of a diseased gum, I pulled her, pale and feeble from the stinking well. The water had risen to her chest. I climbed back up the rope ladder I had hitched to my car, pulling her up by the straps of her dungarees. All that time, I fought a battle in my head. Why didn’t I just leave her there? Why did I have to return? But the compulsion was too strong to bear. So, I took her somewhere more fitting. Somewhere she can die in peace, and take my tortured memories with her.

R
ecovery
from her ordeal came all the quicker when news filtered through to Jennifer that Abigail’s body was not in the well. A hot bath and a change of clothes later, she was ready to face the world. But there were so many questions to be answered, and her concern for Olivia grew. She could be the only living witness to her sister’s abduction. And if the police didn’t find Abigail soon, Olivia could be their only lead. Something Abigail’s abductor would also be aware of – if such a person existed.

The seriousness of the situation had warranted further briefing and, humiliated after being told off by DCI Anderson, she was not in a hurry for a repeat performance as she entered the office of Operation Moonlight. But DI Ethan Cole was not going to allow her off the hook that easily.

Office chairs were wheeled into a circle and the team were invited to take a seat. Ethan rolled up his shirt sleeves, the endless shifts drawing dark circles under his eyes. The office smelled of last night’s takeaway, and Jennifer wrinkled her nose as she picked the most comfortable chair.

‘What was it, curry?’ she whispered to Will.

‘Yeah, we’ve worked long hours this week. I had the leftovers for breakfast this morning,’ Will replied, smirking at Jennifer’s disgusted reaction.

DI Cole stood in the centre of the circle, silencing their conversation.

‘I know you’ve got your own workloads to be getting on with, but if you’ll pull up a seat, I’d like you to join in with a quick brainstorming session.’

Claire, Jennifer’s sergeant, wheeled in beside her, across from Zoe and Will. Jennifer flashed her a smile. It was nice being back in the bosom of her team, if only for a few minutes.

Ethan clapped his hands together, making Claire jump.

‘Right! DCI Anderson has been working with some highly regarded criminal profilers on this case. I’ve condensed their reports. Although some of the information is conflicting, I’ve taken the main points from each one.’ Picking up a manila folder, he slid out some paperwork and handed the sheets around.

‘When children under five are missing feared dead, in most cases one of the parents is responsible. They could be suffering from a mental health illness, post-natal psychosis, or, more commonly in fathers, it involves a domestic incident in which they kill their children then commit suicide.’ Ethan glanced at the paper, although the words seemed committed to memory. ‘Where the missing children are aged five years and over, outside intervention is also probable. The reports profiled the suspect as likely to be male, between the ages of eighteen and forty-five, with past criminal convictions. He may be known to the family, and could have had direct contact with Abigail, or been in a trusted position, for example a friend of the family, work colleague, relative, or someone the parents know.’

Jennifer nibbled her bottom lip as she followed her DI’s words on the sheet of paper. The suspect was sounding more like Radcliffe by the second.

‘The abductor may be shy, withdrawn, living alone or with a parent, socially inept, and have a powerful imagination. They may take refuge in fantasy. In this imaginary world, they are a powerful person, admired to by others. The more time they spend in this fantasy, the less satisfied they become with their everyday existence. They retreat into their imaginary world, making it so vivid, so real, that it eventually takes over their real life. ‘

‘But aren’t we be in danger of making the personality fit the profile?’ Jennifer asked. ‘The first example sounds like Radcliffe, but the second paragraph sounds more like Joanna.’

‘Perhaps,’ Ethan said. ‘Remember, it’s just there to guide us. And if it sounds like two, or three, or five people, then they are the people we need to be putting under the microscope. The report also states that the individual could be shy, anxious and reserved, someone who feels inferior to their peers. That sounds like both parties again, doesn’t it?’

Jennifer nodded, scanning the rest of the page.
In their fantasy world, they become omnipotent and powerful. But the more they take flight into the imagination, the more real it becomes.
As a result of this secret inner world, family, neighbours and friends may never guess they are capable of such a crime.

She tuned back in to Ethan’s voice, which carried back and forth as he continued to pace the room.

‘We’ve also investigated the possibility of a revenge plot, given that Mr Duncan is a police sergeant, and we’ve toyed with the idea of a failed ransom abduction, given his wife’s success. However, there’s nothing to suggest either at this time. It’s also unlikely that Abigail made acquaintance with the offender online and arranged a meet.’

‘From what Olivia has said, and my experiences in the well, I agree,’ Jennifer said.

Ethan slid the paper back into the folder. ‘Can you fill us in on that?’

Jennifer nodded. ‘Up until recently, a trailer had covered the well – which means someone’s been there and moved it to one side.’ She stretched her legs, her body stiff from her exertions. ‘DCI Anderson said the well could have been discovered by a local who, finding nothing inside, covered it back up for safety reasons.’

‘And you disagree with his findings?’ DI Cole said.

Jennifer nodded. ‘From what Abigail’s said through her sister, I feel she was there. But there’s something very dark attached to the farm. It wasn’t a very pleasant experience down there.’

‘Thoughts, anyone?’ Ethan said, opening it up to the team.

‘Do you think this dark energy is responsible for Abigail’s disappearance?’ Claire asked.

Jennifer was quick to answer. ‘No. But it’s possibly influencing the actions of people involved.’

‘It’s related to the house,’ Zoe said. ‘Blackwater farm was used to practise the dark arts years ago. It’s like a . . .’ Zoe squinted one eye, constructing her words. ‘Call it a negative energy if you like . . . There’s lots of spirits attached to the house, but this energy is malevolent. It can’t directly harm us, but it
has
depressive qualities.’

Jennifer turned to her colleagues to explain. ‘Whatever was invoked back then has a strong presence now. I felt it when I was in the well too. I don’t think it can do much, other than draw out what’s already there, but there was a moment when . . .’ She tailed off.

‘Go on,’ Ethan said. ‘It won’t go beyond this office.’

‘Well,’ Jennifer sighed. ‘Nick was standing over me, holding the rope. I shouted for help, but he was staring at me with this weird expression on his face. I hate to distrust a colleague, but . . . I couldn’t get back on dry land quick enough.’

‘You said the rope jerked, making you lose your grip. Do you think he let you fall on purpose?’ Will asked, a mixture of anger and concern darkening his face.

Jennifer recognised that look. Will could be fiercely protective, and she wouldn’t put it past him to confront Nick for not taking better care. It was better to put her reservations to one side than to start some sort of feud. ‘No, not at all. You know, thinking about it, I just freaked out. You know what I’m like in confined spaces.’

‘What I don’t understand is,’ Ethan said, displaying his characteristic hand gestures, ‘why would they take the chance of going back and removing her? You said yourself, the well was filling up fast with water. They risked a lot, going back there.’

‘But did they?’ Jennifer replied, having already mulled it over in her head. ‘If it was a member of the family, or even a local, all they had to do was to say they were looking for Abigail and had just come across her. They would have been the hero of the day. Who’s to say any different?’

‘Unless the kid was still alive,’ Zoe said, crossing her legs.

Jennifer nodded, smiling at the purple Harry Potter socks peeping out from Zoe’s trouser legs. ‘Yeah, but without her glasses she can’t see very much anyway,’

‘Joanna’s media hungry. What if this is some weird publicity stunt?’ Claire said.

‘She definitely likes the publicity,’ Will said, ‘but chucking your own child in a well is too extreme for that. I think it was someone more sinister, like Radcliffe. He’s a weird loner, a bit funny with kids, and – you said yourself – in no hurry to speak to police.’

Jennifer nodded, but more in acknowledgement than agreement. ‘There’s got to be human involvement in Abigail’s disappearance. She hasn’t got lost or been hurt. I think someone knows exactly where she is. But Radcliffe? . . . I don’t know. There’s too many secrets in that family. I can’t help but feel they’re somehow involved.’

‘Radcliffe’s been voluntarily interviewed today. So far, he’s denied any offences,’ Ethan said, spreading his hands wide in a non-committal gesture. ‘Has anyone any suggestions as to progressing from here? C’mon, guys, I really want Op Moonlight to crack this case. Getting a result would secure our future.’

Jennifer should have been shocked at Ethan’s motivations. To her, finding Abigail was all about getting the little girl safely home to her family. According to Ethan, it was a case that could secure future funding and the respect of his peers. But she hadn’t forgotten his earlier comments about not being able to sleep while Abigail was out there, lost and alone. It was a tiny glimpse into his persona. In private, he was caring and considerate, but here, in the driving seat of the Op Moonlight investigation, he was a hard-edged professional. The room fell silent, and a thought entered her mind.

‘I’ve got an idea,’ she said, looking in Will’s direction. ‘But you might not like it.’

‘
J
ust remind
me why you’ve volunteered us for this again?’ Will said, sliding out a stick of chewing gum from silver foil and throwing the paper on the floor of Jennifer’s car.

‘Excuse me,’ Jennifer frowned before leaning forward and picking it up from the footwell. ‘Just because you drive a wheelie bin with an engine doesn’t mean I want my car the same way.’

Will’s fingers crept up the back of her shirt as she leaned forward, sending a pool of warmth into her stomach. ‘And less of that, DC Dunston, this is meant to be a stake-out.’

Will withdrew his hand and gave her a cheeky grin. ‘That’s a shame. We’ve not christened the car yet, have we?’

Jennifer straightened in her seat. ‘And we won’t, either. Can you imagine the mess? Now, can we get back to the matter in hand?’

‘Aye aye, captain, whatever you say. But you didn’t answer my question. Why are we doing this in our own time? I thought the family were already under surveillance.’

‘Cutbacks. They’re keeping a close eye on Radcliffe, but can’t afford anyone to watch the house. To be fair, they don’t have the justification, given that I’m there all day. I would have offered to stay over, but I think I’m wearing out my welcome as it is.’

‘She’s been three days gone, babe. I hate to say it, but if she’s been dumped somewhere it’s unlikely she’s still alive.’

‘But don’t you get it?’ Jennifer said. ‘If she was in that well, then someone’s moved her. Our best hope is that they’re looking after her and she’s alive.’

Jennifer peered out her car window down the moonlit path. It was fortunate that it was a clear night and she had managed to find a good spot to park the car where it would remain unseen. She would have some answering to do if she was caught by a member of the family, and had planned to say they were covert in case anyone presented a threat. Not that Joanna would care. Nick, on the other hand, would present more of a challenge. He was currently on sick leave from the police. But feelings were running high, and she would not have put it past him to ask his colleagues to update him on the investigation. It was another reason why her visit had not been recorded. She would forgo being paid overtime if it meant nobody knew of her visit but the Op Moonlight team. It was hard enough keeping tabs on members of the public. But when it was one of their own police force, it presented a whole new set of challenges.

‘So who are we expecting to see?’ Will asked. ‘Mum, Dad, or both?’

Jennifer shrugged, the memory of Nick standing over her in the well still fresh in her mind. ‘God knows. But whoever moved Abigail must have done it under the cover of night. It’s only a matter of time before they lead us to her.’

Will’s jaw cracked as he yawned. ‘Can I ask how long you’re expecting to stay? It’s gone two-thirty and we both have work in the morning.’

‘You didn’t have to come,’ Jennifer snapped. To her, one sleepless night was a small price to pay if it brought them to the missing child. Will’s silence brought forth guilt, and she squeezed his knee. ‘I’m sorry, I do appreciate you being here. Give it until three, and then we’ll call it a night.’

‘I’m not complaining,’ Will said. ‘I want to find her as much as anyone else, you know.’

Jennifer arched an eyebrow. ‘But you think we’re wasting our time.’

‘It’ll be a miracle if she’s alive.’

Jennifer returned her gaze to the farmlands. Mercifully, the full moon illuminated the footpath leading to the woodlands beyond. A gap in the thicket gave them a decent view without giving away their location. From her vantage point, Jennifer could see if anyone passed by. There were other routes they could have taken, through hedges, or off to the fields at the back of the house, which eventually led around to the woods, but it was a long hike and if anyone was sneaking out in the dead of night, they would take the quickest route so they could get back quickly without being seen. Jennifer tapped her fingers on her lips as she mused the possible direction of travel. It was doubtful they would return to the well, as it had now been filled in, so the woodlands were the best bet. They provided thick cover, but it was not a good place to visit at night unless you knew where you were going. Although it had been searched by locals and police, large patches would have remained untouched because of the vast density of the woodlands. Hordes of volunteers would have trampled out any scent for the police dogs to find, and, like the helicopter and drones that flew overhead, they had drawn a blank. A terrorist incident in another area of the country had killed off any headlines on Abigail’s disappearance in the news, but the social media hate campaign raged on. Will had theorised that if the girl had gone missing from a well populated town, the coverage may have been better. Children went missing all the time. What made one more newsworthy than the other? The surveillance was a last ditch attempt at a resolution. Soon Jennifer’s time with the family would come to an end. Police work didn’t stop coming in just because there had been a tragic incident involving a child. There would be more cases, more victims piling up and no extra resources to deal with them.

Jennifer realised she was becoming grim and switched her focus. She had come so close already. Perhaps tonight would be the night they would find Abigail.

‘I walked in on Nick having a right old barney with his dad today,’ Jennifer said, breaking the silence.

‘Oh yeah? What about?’ Will said, reclining his car seat a notch.

‘I think it was because he didn’t go to mass. I get the feeling they don’t see eye to eye . . . Hang on, I think I can see movement,’ Jennifer whispered, ducking down.

A glimpse of white caught her attention. It flickered in the distance, and Jennifer made out a figure in a billowing dress. Or is it a nightdress? she thought, peering through the night. Jennifer could see that the ground was broken and uneven, but the white figure walking towards them seemed to glide.

‘What the hell is that?’ Will said as they eased out of the car.

‘Shh,’ Jennifer said, ‘keep your voice down, she’ll hear you.’

The slim figure of a woman approached, and she recognised it was Joanna, completely oblivious to the outside world. Devoid of make-up and her usual colourful clothes, she resembled a marble statue come to life. The night breeze played with strands of her long blonde hair, and her eyes shone with an ethereal quality as she gazed into the distance. Jennifer noticed she was barefoot, but she wasn’t walking with care, as you would over such terrain, but rather passing calmly over the surface.

‘I think she’s sleepwalking,’ Jennifer whispered. ‘If she goes too far, we’ll have to wake her up.’

‘Listen,’ Will whispered as she passed them on the path. ‘She’s talking to herself.’

‘I can’t make it out. What is it?’ Jennifer said, creeping up the path from the other side of the thicket.

‘I think she’s humming a nursery rhyme,’ Will said, struggling to keep his balance on the chewed up terrain.

Jennifer grabbed the sleeve of his jacket to balance herself. She hadn’t had the benefit of nursery rhymes when she was young, unlike Will, whose family was comparable to the
Little House on the Prairie
. ‘I should have known you’d know that. But why’s she singing it?’

‘Hold up, she’s stopped,’ Will said, pulling Jennifer into the thick gorse as Joanna looked to her right.

A yelp escaped Jennifer’s lips as thorns embedded themselves into her jeans. She strained her neck to watch, as Joanna looked left, then right, as if she was lost.

‘Daddy?’ Joanna said. ‘Daddy, is that you?’

She looked unsure, and began to cry with child-like sobs. Her sobs subsided into sniffles as she made faltering steps over the rough terrain.

Jennifer was about to blow her cover when she was alerted to heavy footsteps pounding the track from the direction of the house. The beam of a flashlight speared the night as the heavy-footed figure gained ground.

‘What do we do now?’ Jennifer mouthed to Will as they both crouched down. Will put a finger to his mouth and gestured at her to be silent. It was Nick, out of breath and bewildered.

‘What are you doing out here?’ Nick said, throwing off his wax jacket and placing it around his wife’s shoulders.

Joanna spun around, unblinking as she reached out in the darkness. ‘The party . . . Have you seen Daddy?’

‘Babe, you’re dreaming. Wake up,’ Nick said, giving her a gentle shake.

‘What?’ Joanna said, stumbling on the path. ‘Where am I?’

Nick took her by the arm. ‘Steady, now. You’re sleepwalking. Anything could have happened.’

‘I . . . I don’t understand,’ Joanna said, wincing as she took a faltering step forward on the stony ground.

‘Look at your feet.’ Nick’s voice echoed his pity. ‘They’re bleeding. Here, put your arm around my shoulders. I’ll carry you home.’

Joanna did as she was instructed, and leaned into her husband as he swept her off her feet and carried her up the path. It was a scene reminiscent of an old Mills & Boon novel, and Jennifer wondered if there was hope for their marriage after all.

Jennifer and Will tracked them back to the house, staying until the bedroom light had been extinguished. It was a quarter past three by the time they returned to the car, wondering if they could gain any clues from Joanna’s mysterious behaviour. ‘What was that all about?’ Will said, clicking his seatbelt into place.

‘I’ve no idea. But my arse has got a few battle scars from you pushing me into those brambles.’

‘Sorry. I didn’t want her to see us,’ Will grinned, looking anything but sorry. ‘Are you going to turn on your lights or what?’

Jennifer peered up the lane as the car crept along. Dawn was in no hurry to break, but the small country road was well lit by the cool night sky. ‘In a minute, I don’t want them to see us. Do you think she was really sleepwalking?’

‘If she wasn’t, it was an Oscar-winning performance. What was the mention of a party about?’ Will said.

‘Well, it’s the twins’ birthday soon,’ Jennifer responded.

‘But why would she be calling out for her daddy?’

‘I wish I knew,’ Jennifer said. ‘It’s a touchy subject. She was probably just having a bad dream, a kickback from the psychic’s visit. When I think of some of the weird dreams I’ve had . . .’

Will smirked. ‘I know. Last night you were talking in your sleep about cleaning my flat. I presume it was a feather duster you were looking for when you grabbed hold of me?’

Jennifer choked mid-yawn. ‘Well, I won’t be grabbing your feather duster tonight, I can assure you.’

Will grinned. ‘If you change your mind and feel like any . . . cleaning, I’m at your service.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ Jennifer grinned, her eyes flickering to her rear-view mirror.

She switched on the headlights as she approached the junction, her thoughts back at the farm. Just where had Joanna been going? And as for Nick . . . it was the closest she had seen the couple since she’d met them. With her and Will, what you saw was what you got. But Nick and Joanna’s relationship was fractured. Was the rift related to their daughter’s disappearance, or did the problems lie deeper? Something told Jennifer she was just touching the surface of the Duncan family’s secrets.