The Girl You Lost: A gripping psychological thriller (12 page)

I pour myself a glass of red wine, and take it to the living room. The curtains are still open in here and as I head to the window to close them, a flicker of something catches my eye.

There is a man outside. Staring straight at me. I don’t recognise his face but something about him is familiar.

And then it hits me. His grey jacket and black trainers. I have seen him before. In Lucas Hall’s flat.

Rushing to the hall – with no thought to consequences – I throw open the front door and step outside to get a closer look. But he has gone. If he was even there to begin with.

Later, I sit at the kitchen table and tell myself I imagined it. Perhaps this whole situation is causing me so much stress that I’m hallucinating. And just when I’m trying to comprehend what I did or didn’t see, my mobile rings.

It is Tamsin Bray. And she is telling me they have found Charlotte.

I
went
to Harry’s bar the next night. I had no idea how seriously he had meant his invitation, so hadn’t made up my mind to go until the last second. Maybe he wouldn’t be there, but I could easily walk back out again. And at least I would get out of my shabby room for a while.

But he was there, just as he’d said he’d be. He wasn’t alone, but then how could I have expected him to be? No, he was flanked by two other students I’d never seen before. They barely glanced at me so I ignored them and tapped his arm.

‘It’s you,’ he said, that magnetic smile back on his face. He offered to buy me a beer, and even though I had early lectures in the morning, I gratefully accepted.

‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis blared from the speakers, drunken voices in the background singing along, and now I can’t hear that song without thinking of him.

We hijacked a table in the corner, and for a while he was the only person speaking. I could tell the other two weren’t comfortable with me being there, but couldn’t think why. We were all students – weren’t we supposed to be sociable? Meeting new people? Too drunk to care? But after a while – and countless beers – we all seemed to forget we were strangers, sharing stories about our lives, and by the end of the night I was confident I had made some new friends.

Perhaps you are wondering why he was so important to me, right from the start, before I truly knew him? It wasn’t as if I’d been a loner, desperate for people to like me. I’d had plenty of friends in school, and wasn’t bothered about making more at university, but I had never felt an affinity with anyone like this.

Did I recognise something in him that I knew to be in myself? I can’t say, but whatever it was, I felt that he understood the core of me. I wasn’t to know then the extent to which this was true. That came later. But if it’s possible to fall hard and fast for a friend, then that is exactly what I did.

We went back to his house after the bar closed. Just he and I, the other two having left some time before, and I don’t remember much after that. Only that the conversation flowed, and everything was so easy.

To this day, I don’t recall whether I said anything to him that revealed anything about the real me, but I have often wondered how he knew. He must have known, though. Because from that moment on we were as inseparable as our timetables allowed us to be.

He will say I started the whole thing, and in some way this is true, but if I was the match, then he was the hand that struck it.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. That came months later, when we’d secured an invisible bond between us. When we knew without having to express it that we could trust one another.

And now I need to tell you about Leanne.

‘
S
he won’t talk
to anyone,’ Tamsin Bray says.

We are standing in her kitchen, staring out at the frost-covered garden. As I listen to her speak, I initially struggle to understand why she isn’t more excited. But as she explains, it dawns on me that for her family this is only just the beginning.

‘The police can’t even get a word out of her,’ she tells me. ‘They think she might be in some kind of shock. Traumatised by something. The only thing that’s clear is that something awful has happened to her.’ Her voice wobbles and tears flood down her cheeks. ‘What if she’s been … raped?’ Tamsin looks at me, her eyes begging for answers I don’t have.

‘Is that what they think’s happened?’ I don’t want to ask this question, but now that she’s brought it up I can’t ignore it.

‘That’s just it. She won’t let anyone touch her. And she wears clothes that cover her body completely so who knows what she’s hiding? The doctor tried to examine her but she just went rigid and shrieked the place down. And they can’t force her, can they?’ Again, she throws me that look. ‘Not that I want to put her through that. I guess it’s her choice.’

‘Maybe she just needs time?’ I suggest.

This must be the wrong thing to say because suddenly Tamsin is reaching for the back door, throwing it open and rushing outside. I give her a moment then follow her out.

I’m about to apologise when she beats me to it. ‘I’m sorry. I just needed some air. This is all—’

‘I know. Don’t worry. The main thing is, she’s back. That’s what’s important, isn’t it?’

She takes my hand and I am surprised how cold her skin is, considering we’ve been outside for less than a minute. ‘Yes. It’s everything,’ she says.

The Brays’ back garden is larger than I imagined it to be. Although it is narrow, it stretches on endlessly, and a paved path leads to the bottom of it, where I can just about see a high fence. Without discussing it, we begin walking, even though neither of us has on a coat.

‘I need to ask you something,’ Tamsin says, once we’ve neared the end of the garden. ‘I just wondered if Charlotte might … talk to you. If you explained who you are and how you … lost your daughter? It might force her out of herself? I know she needs time but the police need to know what’s happened to her, who’s responsible. Otherwise, how will they ever stop them doing it again?’

As much as I want to help, I’m not sure this is a good idea. How could I be of any help? I understand why Tamsin is asking me; it has nothing to do with my job, and everything to do with losing my daughter. ‘I don’t know, Tamsin. I’m not sure it’s ethical. I think the police would—’

‘The liaison officer says it’s fine,’ Tamsin says, her tone authoritative, even though her voice is still soft.

But I’m still not convinced. Charlotte was only found last night, by a canal in north London, wearing no coat or shoes, only the tattered green dress she’d gone out in the night she disappeared. Her body was covered in cuts and bruises and she could barely walk. She is lucky to be alive.

‘Please, Simone,’ Tamsin continues when I don’t answer. ‘I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. I just need to know my girl’s okay.’

It would be easy to refuse if I hadn’t lost Helena, if I couldn’t imagine exactly how afraid for her daughter Tamsin must be.

‘Where is she now?’ I ask. Tamsin has asked me to do something momentous. I am not skilled in speaking to victims in this way. I have no idea what I would even say to Charlotte. But I also understand why she needs me to do this, and even though I’m battling my own troubles at the moment, I can’t let her down.

‘In her room. She’s barely left it, but I know she’s not sleeping. She’s just staring into space.’

We reach the back fence and turn around, retracing our steps back to the house. ‘Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll try and talk to her but I can’t promise anything. Please don’t get your hopes up.’

Tamsin grabs me, squeezing me so tightly I gasp. ‘Thank you so much, Simone. Thank you.’

Charlotte’s room is dark and stuffy. The curtains are drawn and she sits cross-legged on her bed, wearing a long-sleeved dressing gown and some loose pyjamas. Her hair is pulled up in a messy ponytail and her face is make-up free, making her look even younger. She doesn’t look up, or even flinch, when I come in and sit on the floor opposite her.

‘Hi, Charlotte. I’m Simone. A friend of your mum’s.’ There is no reaction, her eyes are fixed on the carpet. I take a deep breath. ‘I don’t know if she’s told you about me, but eighteen years ago my six-month-old baby Helena was abducted.’ I pause to let this register, but her face remains blank. ‘I still haven’t found her. I know it’s very different to what happened to you, but I just really want you to know that I’m here to listen. You can tell me anything you like, or say nothing, it’s up to you. But I’m just going to sit here with you for a while. Is that okay?’

Her eyes flicker towards me, but then she goes back to staring at the floor. I am out of my comfort zone here and have no idea if I’m making things worse. ‘Helena would be just a bit younger than you now,’ I say, picturing Grace. I still have no idea where she is, and whether I can trust that the texts being sent from her phone are really her words. Turning my attention back to Charlotte, I notice her leg twitching, although she still doesn’t look at me.

For twenty minutes I sit on the floor and talk to the silent girl. I tell her my hopes and dreams for Helena, how I imagine she has turned out. Then I talk about Matt and how we’re stronger than ever, despite our tragedy, how there were many moments I wasn’t sure we’d make it, but we’re still here. I even tell her about Abbot, how much of a friend he’s turned out to be. It is a relief to be speaking this out loud – even though I doubt Charlotte is listening – but I don’t mention Grace, or the events of the last few days.

Charlotte remains in her position, never once looking at me.

‘Is there anything you can say that will help the police find who did this to you? Don’t you want that to happen? So that there won’t be other victims?’

Again there is no response. I have given this my best shot but I am getting nowhere. I need to leave her alone now. ‘I’m going now, Charlotte. Get some rest, and please remember that you will get through this. That’s one thing I’ve learned. Humans have a remarkable ability to adapt and deal with the most horrific circumstances.’ Even as I say this, I am not sure how I would do that if I ever found out Helena was dead.

Closing her door behind me, I head back downstairs to tell Tamsin that, as I had feared, I couldn’t help.

O
utside in the car
, I call Matt to tell him I won’t be home for a while.

‘But it’s Sunday,’ he says. ‘I was thinking after you visited the family we could do something together.’ As busy as we are, Matt and I usually try to keep Sundays for each other, so I understand his disappointment.

Pulling my seatbelt across me, I stare at the Brays’ house. ‘It’s been a difficult morning. Tamsin Bray wanted me to talk to Charlotte, to try to get through to her. Apparently she’s not said a word to anyone since she was found. Anyway, I just need to pop into work.’ I know Matt understands how important my work is to me; it is exactly the same for him.

‘It’s okay. We can always do something later.’

Hearing him say this reminds me how lucky I am to have him, and I am about to change my mind and tell him I’ll come home when an image of Grace pops into my head. I need to see Abbot urgently and find out if his friend has managed to hack into Lucas’s laptop yet. So instead I tell Matt that I’ll try not to be too long. I’m doing this for Helena, I think, as guilt floods through me. For our family.

‘Would you mind if I go to the pub with Spencer?’ he says. ‘I fancy a roast dinner.’

It makes me smile that in the midst of everything that’s going on, Matt is still able to focus on the small things. I am doing the right thing keeping this from him. ‘’Course not, go ahead. And don’t rush. I’ll see you at home later.’

‘I love you,’ he says, before we end the call.

I
stand
outside the door of Abbot’s building, pressing the buzzer to his flat. Seconds tick by but there is no crack or hiss from the intercom. There is nothing but silence. This is strange. I texted him after I spoke to Matt to let him know I was on my way. He didn’t reply, but I know his phone is never out of his reach so he must have seen my message. I press the buzzer again and this time the door clicks open, but he doesn’t speak.

‘What’s going on?’ I say, when he answers the door. There are bags under his eyes and he rubs at them, forcing himself to concentrate.

‘I’m sorry, Sim, I fell asleep. I’ve been up all night. Researching. Calling all the people on Hannah’s list. I lost track of time and forgot to go to bed.’

I rush forward and pull him into a hug. He is doing this for me and I don’t know how I will ever repay him. I bury my head in his chest and whisper a
thank you
.

‘Hey,’ he says, pulling back. ‘It’s fine. I’m only helping because there might be a huge story for me to produce at the end of it. You know, I don’t want you to think I’m being selfless.’

I laugh then and gently smack his arm. ‘Please tell me we’ve got something to work with?’

He takes my hand and leads me to the sofa. ‘We haven’t got into the laptop yet, but I did find out some very interesting things about Lucas.’

Finally something to go on. ‘How? You mean his friends actually told you stuff about him?’

Abbot smiles. ‘I just turned on the charm, you know how I do that, and they were falling over themselves to help me. Thing is, I wouldn’t call some of them his friends. More like employees who only just tolerated him. By all accounts, he is not a very likeable man.’

I listen while Abbot repeats the information he has learned about Lucas Hall. According to some, he has had numerous affairs with women, and always seems to dismiss them the minute he’s slept with them. I remember Grace’s description of the events last Sunday night; it now seems more likely she was telling the truth.

‘But nobody knows where he is,’ Abbot continues. ‘That’s our biggest problem. I’ve been racking my brain but can’t think how we’ll find him. We really need to get into his computer.’

‘Maybe it’s time to confront Ginny.’ I say. ‘We’ve been focusing so much on Lucas that we’re forgetting the one person who, if Grace is telling the truth, is most likely responsible for abducting my baby.’

Abbot leans forward and rests his head in his hands. ‘You’re right. Plus, there’s something else we’ve been forgetting. Lucas was her brother’s best friend, so there’s a possibility she knows where he is. Add that together with the missing baby medical records and the C-section mistake she made with that woman she was looking after … we need to catch her out. Get the truth out of her.’

‘I’ve been thinking a lot about it and I can’t see how she would know what he’s like, otherwise she would never have left him alone with her daughter, would she? And despite what she may have done, she does seem to be a good mother to Grace.’ I hate to admit this, but it’s undeniable. Grace said nothing that would make me question Ginny’s parenting.

Abbot considers this. ‘Perhaps. But I think we just have to doubt everyone. Assume everyone is lying, at least until we have evidence to suggest otherwise.’

‘And that includes Grace,’ I say, more to myself than to Abbot.

‘Sorry, but yes. Especially Grace. We still don’t know where she is, but neither her friend nor her supposed mother is worried. Something’s not right with that, Sim. Especially given how studious she is. I mean, who’s this friend she’s supposed to have gone to stay with, anyway?’

Abbot doesn’t need to tell me this; it’s all I have thought of since Grace failed to turn up at the house on Tuesday. ‘But let’s wait to confront Ginny. We need to see if we can get something to take to her first, other than just an accusation.’

I have to agree here, as this is the only thing stopping me hammering down her door. ‘Okay, well, you need to get some sleep,’ I tell him. ‘There’s not much we can do until we get into the laptop or hear from Nick Gibbs. We’ve hit a dead end for now.’

Abbot yawns, as if the mention of sleep has reminded him he needs some more. ‘I’ll just have a quick rest. No more than a couple of hours. But call me if you need anything.’

What I need right now is to be at home with Matt, cuddled on the sofa with a glass of wine and a blank mind. I say this out loud and Abbot’s mouth twists.

‘Go and be with your husband,’ he says.

W
hen I pull
up to the house my phone beeps with a text. Matt is still at the pub, but says he’ll leave if I’m back already. I text back:

Stay, have fun x
.

I am already planning to work on the Charlotte Bray story when I get inside. I doubt we will get an interview out of Charlotte herself, but Tamsin and Elliott might be willing to talk to us again. Even so, I need to give them at least a few days alone with their daughter, before the media intrusion resumes.

Stepping out of the car, I am so consumed with my thoughts that I don’t immediately notice someone close beside me. Too close. It is only when a hand grabs my arm, forcing me around that I take in what’s happening. I stare at the face of a stranger, at the grey jacket, and then it all becomes clear.

It is the man who was in Lucas Hall’s flat.