The Vanishing Point (17 page)

26

S
carlett was waiting for me in the car after I’d seen the lawyer. I told her the verdict and she swore like a football hooligan then said, ‘That is just so wrong. He can do what the fuck he likes. Get in your face as much as he wants. And there’s fuck-all you can do? He needs sorting out, he does. I tell you, Steph, I still know some lads in Leeds who’d be happy to come down and do him over.’

‘No, I told you. That’s not the way to go. Apart from anything else, what happens if one of your old mates makes a secret recording of you putting the word out then sells it to the papers? All your hard work over the past year goes straight down the tubes. Not to mention you get arrested for conspiracy to have somebody beaten up.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘We’ve got to find another way to get him.’

Scarlett pouted. ‘And so far you’ve come up with zilch.’

‘Yeah, well. I’ve been giving this some thought. And I’ve decided that I’m going to sell the house. No estate agent’s board, no details in their window. Just a very discreet word of mouth to the people on their books. Then one day Pete the Bastard will turn up to follow me to the bus stop and it won’t be me who walks out of the front door.’

Scarlett looked dumbstruck. ‘Can you do that?’

‘It won’t be easy, but yeah, I think so. Every time there’s going to be a viewing, I’ll make sure I act as a decoy. I’ll trail him all over town on a jolly while the agent’s showing the property to prospective buyers. The day before the move, I’ll let him follow me to the Eurostar and we’ll toddle off to Paris for a couple of days.’

Scarlett laughed with delight. ‘You are one clever bitch, Steph. And where are you going to live then?’

‘I thought I might come and crash with you for a few months. What do you say?’

She did a little shoulder-and-hand jive in the seat. ‘Cool, cool, very fucking cool,’ she said. ‘We’ll have a right laugh.’ She frowned. ‘You never told him about Leanne, did you?’

I shook my head. ‘No way. That was our secret. He knows nothing that can damage you, believe me. I’ve always been very discreet. That’s how I protect my investment.’ I gave her a friendly punch on the arm. ‘Are you OK with me moving in for a bit?’

‘Stay as long as you want. I like having you around.’

‘I like being around. But I’ll be honest, the big advantage for me in staying with you over any of my other mates is that I’ve got a proper place to work. Somewhere that’s not in the way, so I don’t feel like I’m imposing,’ I added hastily, in case she thought a workroom of my own was the only reason I preferred her place.

‘Not to mention the high wall and the security gates,’ Scarlett said. ‘He could sit out there for bloody days and never get so much as a glimpse of you.’

‘He doesn’t even know where it is. Just the general area.’

She snorted. ‘He’ll find out. All he has to do is ask around the pubs. It might cost him twenty quid, but there’s plenty ready to shop me. For all the good it’ll do him. Like I said, he’s not going to be able to pester you behind my walls. Not now we’ve got the broken glass.’ She pretended to wince.

‘Thanks, Scarlett. I appreciate it.’

‘And I mean it. Stay as long as you want.’ She shrugged. ‘Make it permanent, if you want.’

‘That’s kind. And no disrespect, but I like having a place of my own. I just need to think about where I want to be then find a house that fits the bill. If I can get a bit of breathing space at yours, I won’t be rushing into the wrong choice, making it too easy for him to find me.’

We set off through the afternoon traffic, hoping to make it back to Essex before the roads grew too congested. Scarlett’s offer was kind, but if I’m honest, I couldn’t stomach the idea of living in the fake-tan belt permanently. Not to mention the fact that I’d never see any of my other friends, for whom Essex loomed large in the imagination as a wasteland devoid of culture, cuisine and conversation. I hadn’t made my mind up where I was going to settle, except that I knew it would be outside London. And not Essex.

‘You need to get a new phone as well,’ Scarlett said. ‘And a new email address. Just for your mates and for Maggie. You don’t want to be dealing with his shit on a day-to-day basis, but you do need to keep a record of it.’

What she said made sense. And I’d deal with it in the morning. I’d hoped for a different outcome from the day. I’d hoped it would end with Pete in a police interview room or about to be served with court papers for an injunction hearing. But it wasn’t the end of the world. One way or another, I was determined not to have my life defined by one twisted inadequate.

Realising I wasn’t the only one being stalked by a twisted inadequate probably shouldn’t have made me feel better, but it did. Within days of me setting up base camp at Scarlett’s, Leanne came back from a night on the town bursting with indignation. It soon became clear that her anger was covering a much deeper seam of unease.

She was sitting at the kitchen table, defiantly smoking, scowling into a mug of tea. She didn’t look up as I brewed a coffee and sat down opposite her.

‘Rough night?’ I said.

‘You have no idea.’

‘What happened? A few too many cocktails?’

‘Huh. I wish. No, I got monstered by this mad fucking stalker chick who thinks Scarlett is her best mate because she donated a few signed boxes of Scarlett Smile to some fucking charity fundraiser. I’d barely walked in the place when she started hovering, doing that, “Don’t you remember me, babe?” thing. It’s always a bit dodgy when they pull that because I’ve got no idea whether they really know Scarlett or not, you know? So I have to busk it. Like, pretend I’ve got a shit memory for faces. Anyway, I thought I saw her off OK. Only I hadn’t.’

‘That must have been uncomfortable.’

‘It was more than uncomfortable. It was fucking spooky. It was like she was glued on. I couldn’t shake her off. And because she was acting like we was best mates, I couldn’t just tell her to fuck off, not in front of everybody. Because that’s the kind of thing that goes straight into the morning papers and on to the Internet. “Foul-mouthed Scarlett devastates charity supporter.” You know what they’re like.’

‘How did you handle it then?’

Leanne suddenly looked shifty. She stubbed out her forbidden cigarette on the underside of the table, a move that Scarlett would have raged at her for. ‘I’d had enough. I couldn’t get a minute’s peace. She kept going on about how she wanted me to come back to her place for a party. Wouldn’t take no for an answer. So I went off to the VIP loo, knowing she’d follow me. Only, I didn’t go into the loo. I went out on the fire escape. And she came after me. I pretended I’d gone out for a fag, and once I’d lit up, I stubbed it out on her neck. Then I kicked her down the fire escape.’

I was shocked and I must have shown it.

‘Well, what else was I going to do?’ Leanne demanded. ‘She wasn’t going to back off. She was doing my head in. And I got rid of her in a way that won’t blow up in Scarlett’s face. She should be grateful. That’s one less mad stalker bitch on her tail.’

Of course I’d known that Scarlett and Leanne had come up as street fighters. But this was the first time I’d seen such stark evidence of how unpleasant things could get if you pushed one of the Higgins girls too far. I knew how scary obsessed fans could get, no denying that.

But I really didn’t warm to Leanne’s way of dealing with it.

27

‘A
nd did your plan work?’ Vivian asked, tapping the keys of her computer to bring up an urgent message from the Chicago office. ‘Did you manage to escape from Pete Matthews?’

‘Amazingly, it did. He turned up at Scarlett’s place a couple of times, but we didn’t answer the intercom and he never caught sight of me, as far as I know. Various friends called to say he’d been looking for me, but nobody grassed me up. I stayed with Scarlett for about six months altogether, while my house was being sold and I was figuring out where to move to. Eventually I—’

Vivian held up one finger. ‘Could you bear with me a moment? I need to deal with this message.’

The email was from her boss.

Vivian:

I’ve had a message from our colleagues at State. The Embassy in London has been inundated with media inquiries about your Amber Alert kid. They’ve been told he’s the child of a reality TV star who died last year and they need an update. I’ve told them the circumstances, but I need a here-and-now from you.

I understand from your brief that Jimmy Higgins’ guardian is a writer? Is there any possibility that this could be a publicity stunt? Abbott says she inherited the kid but no money. Could there be a book in the works that she’s trying to build up a profile for?

I shouldn’t have to remind you that I need you to stay on top of this. The timing couldn’t be worse from an agency point of view. I can’t spare someone to come out there and hold your hand. Let’s get a good result on this one.

Succinct and to the point. Demanding the sort of response she really didn’t have. And throwing a spanner into the works of her witness interview. First things first. How could she dress up this scenario to make it look as if she had some kind of a clue what had happened to Jimmy Higgins? She bit her lip and considered how best to say nothing at all.

We’re pursuing all avenues to trace the movements of Jimmy Higgins and his abductor, who was dressed in a replica TSA uniform and is believed to have left the precincts of the airport. We are also working with Scotland Yard detectives to develop leads on both sides of the Atlantic. Jimmy’s guardian, Stephanie Harker, is giving her full cooperation as we all work to bring Jimmy safely home. Anyone with any information should contact blah blah blah.

That’s really all we have at present. This is not a straightforward Kidnap for Ransom. As yet, we are not clear what the motive might be, but it does seem likely that the child was taken by someone who has a personal connection. I’ll let you know as and when I have anything substantive to report.

It looked woefully thin and it wasn’t going to win her any friends in high places, but better that than to promise what she couldn’t deliver. She read it through again and removed the word ‘replica’ because it was pointlessly speculative.

The second paragraph posed a more thorny question and one she couldn’t really answer except to say her gut instinct was that Stephanie Harker was not a con artist, nor the agent of this crisis. When men claimed gut instinct, it was taken seriously. But still women were condemned to ‘feminine intuition’, as if that were somehow inferior. In Vivian’s experience, the women were on the money more than men, if only because girls were conditioned to listen and pay attention much more than boys were.

Harker’s concern and fear for the boy seems genuine. Her reaction when he was taken was extreme; nobody volunteers for a second blast of the taser. Also, Harker is not the kind of writer who has ever courted publicity. The nature of her work as a ghost writer is the opposite of seeking publicity. If she was trying to make a big splash to win publicity for a book about inheriting the boy, surely she would be better off making herself look like the good mother? The one who foils the kidnap rather than lets it happen? Furthermore, she has volunteered extensive information including direct contact with a Scotland Yard detective who has personal knowledge of both her and the boy. For all those reasons, I don’t think this is a stunt, nor that she has any part in the abduction.

Then she sent it, hoping it would pacify her boss. Really, he should be too busy with threats against the President to be unduly concerned with her investigation. Or to question her instincts about Stephanie Harker.

Vivian retuned her attention to Stephanie, who was visibly tiring now. ‘Your media has got their claws into the story, I’m afraid.’

Stephanie groaned. ‘Can I have my phone back? There are probably a hundred texts and voicemails on it already. Not just from the press, but from my friends and family. They’ll be scared and worried. I need to talk to people.’

‘I appreciate that. And it’s not my intention to keep you from talking to anyone. But first and foremost, for Jimmy’s sake, I need you to keep talking to me. I need to make sure we’ve gone down every possible road that might lead us to the person who took Jimmy this afternoon. Besides, it’s getting late back in the UK. I’m sure people won’t expect you to call tonight. They’ll understand what’s going on.’

Stephanie looked doubtful. ‘You’ve clearly never met my agent. Not to mention my mother. Please, what harm can it do to let me make a couple of calls? I only want to reassure my mother and my literary agent. Who’s also my best friend. The rest can wait. You can listen in if you want. I’ve no secrets.’

Vivian pondered. It wasn’t exactly protocol, but nothing about this case fit the usual parameters – no violence, no ransom demands, no obvious motives. And Stephanie was a witness, not a suspect. It was hard to justify keeping her in purdah. And even if she was somehow tangentially involved in the abduction, it didn’t seem likely that her mother or her agent would be involved. Besides, she felt sure Stephanie had more of relevance to tell her. Vivian needed to keep her on side. A couple of phone calls couldn’t hurt. And it was possible the conversations might remind Stephanie of something she’d forgotten. The final argument for allowing the calls was that it would answer her boss’s fears about collusion. If this was a setup to sell books, surely a conversation with her agent would provide a clue? These were not professional criminals, after all.

Vivian checked out the phone on the desk. Yes, it had speakerphone capability. She gave Stephanie a long, level look. ‘I’m not obliged to facilitate any personal communications you want to make. Not in the middle of an investigation as serious as this. But I’m willing to let you make the two phone calls you asked for. I’m going to put you on speakerphone so I can hear the conversation and if you stray into an area I consider to be inappropriate, then I will intervene. Is that clear?’

Stephanie looked relieved. ‘You mean, if I call Randy Parton an authoritarian twat, you’ll shut me up?’

Vivian couldn’t repress a smile. ‘More like, “Here’s what the FBI are doing.” Who do you want to call first?’

‘My parents. Now the news is out, my mother will be in a state.’

‘You’ll need to hit nine for an outside line.’ Vivian pushed the phone towards her and watched her key in the number. They both listened as the phone rang out. Once, twice, then the tinny emptiness of a transatlantic speakerphone line. ‘Hello?’ It was the voice of an older woman – hesitant, light, insubstantial.

‘Hi, Mum. It’s Stephanie.’

‘Thank God! Robert, it’s Stephanie. We’ve been so worried, we saw on the ten o’clock news that Jimmy’s been kidnapped. We couldn’t believe it. You don’t expect things like that to happen to people you know.’ She sounded affronted, as if the abduction were a personal insult.

‘It’s all been a bit of a shock,’ Stephanie said.

‘Well, it’s been a shock for us too. You must be in a terrible state. How did it happen? You take your eyes off them for a moment . . .’

‘I was in a cubicle waiting to be patted down. I set the metal detector off. My leg, you know? And a man walked off with him.’

‘Well, I never. That’s America for you. You wouldn’t have something like that happening over here, would you?’

Stephanie made an apologetic face at Vivian, who smiled and shrugged. ‘It could have happened anywhere, Mum.’

‘And what about you, you poor thing? Are you all right?’

‘I’m fine. I’m helping the FBI put together a picture of our life.’

‘The FBI? Oh, Robert, she’s with the FBI. I never thought a child of mine would end up in the hands of the FBI. Oh, Stephanie, you must be worried sick. I hope they’re treating you properly. You hear all sorts—’

‘Don’t worry about me, Mum. I’m fine. It’s Jimmy you should be worrying about.’

The sound of a dismissive sniff travelled the best part of four thousand miles. ‘I knew it would be nothing but trouble, you taking on that boy.’

Stephanie pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. This was the last thing she needed. ‘Let’s not go over this again. The point is that somebody has abducted Jimmy and yes, I am worried sick about him. He’s only five, Mum. Try and remember what that’s like. I’ve got to go now. I just wanted to let you know there’s no reason to worry about me. I’ll call you when I’ve any news.’

Without waiting to hear any more, Stephanie pressed the button to disconnect the call. She exhaled heavily, staring at the table. ‘My mother thinks I should have handed Jimmy over to social services,’ she said, her voice heavy and dull. ‘She’s led a pretty narrow life.’

Vivian often wished her own mother’s life had been a little narrower. She’d been a major in Army Intelligence and made no secret of the fact that she thought the FBI was a poor second to her own world. Maybe if her mother had been like Mrs Harker, Vivian wouldn’t have felt quite the same urge constantly to prove herself. ‘Mothers,’ she said. ‘We’re never the daughters they hoped for.’

Stephanie lifted her head in surprise and gave Vivian a tiny nod of acknowledgement. ‘My agent?’

Vivian extended a hand. ‘Be my guest.’

This time, there was no hesitancy in the voice that answered. ‘Maggie Silver,’ came the confident greeting.

‘Maggie,’ Stephanie said. ‘I thought I’d better give you a call.’

‘
Darling
,’ Maggie drawled, her excitement obvious. ‘I’m
so
pleased to hear your
dear
voice. I left a voicemail when I heard the
news
. I couldn’t
believe
it. How absolutely
awful
for you. And that
poor
, dear boy. It’s all
over
Twitter, you know. Not to mention the rolling news.
Do
tell me they’ve
found
him safe and well.’

‘I wish I could. But there’s no trace of him yet.’ Stephanie looked as if she might burst into tears. ‘It’s really scary, Maggie. One minute he was there, the next he was gone.’

‘I simply don’t understand how this could
happen
. Was no one paying
attention
to Jimmy while you were
off
being searched?’

‘Apparently not.’

‘How simply
frightful
. But there’s no point in
blame
, not now. The important thing is getting Jimmy back safely. Do they want
money
? Or is it one of these
mad
political groups looking for
publicity
?’

‘We don’t know. We’ve heard nothing. I’m talking to the FBI, telling them everything I can about Jimmy’s history. And mine.’

‘You’ll be there all
night
, then, darling.’ Maggie said tartly. ‘I hope you’ve got a nice dishy
profiler
like William Petersen in
Manhunter
.’ The women’s eyes met and they both smiled. ‘Now, look, the papers are going to be
all over
this.’ Maggie’s tone turned businesslike. ‘I’m going to need copy from you whenever you can sit down and collect yourself. It’s too late for tomorrow’s papers, but I’m sure I can get you a
nice show
in the
Mail
or the
Mirror
. How soon can you let me have an “I” piece?’

‘I’ve no idea. It’s the last thing on my mind, to be honest.’

‘Sweetie, it’ll be good for you to order your thoughts rather than sitting
brooding
. Trust me, Maggie knows best. Call me in the morning, we’ll take it from there. And look
after
yourself, darling. Get some sleep, OK?’

‘I’ll try. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’

And that was that. There was no doubt that Maggie Silver saw Jimmy Higgins’ disappearance as a potential source of income. But it seemed as much of a shock to her as it had to Stephanie herself.

As if Stephanie were reading her mind, she said, ‘So now you’ve experienced the lovely Maggie. You have to admit, if I was planning this as a publicity stunt, she’s the agent you’d want to have in your corner. Let me set your mind at rest. I won’t be writing anything for the
Daily Mail
tomorrow. Or any other day, if it’s up to me. All I want is to have Jimmy back in my arms. Besides that, everything else pales into insignificance.’

Vivian nodded, believing her. ‘Sure. Now, can we get back to Pete Matthews? I need to ask you: Do you think he’s capable of nursing his grudge against you for all these years? Do you think he would abduct Jimmy simply to get back at you?’

Stephanie frowned. ‘That’s too much of a straight line. If Pete did this, his motive would be different. Somehow, he’d have convinced himself that this was the way not to get back at me but to get me back.’