The Girl You Lost: A gripping psychological thriller (22 page)

‘That’s good,’ Abbot says, placing his arm on my shoulder as we walk towards the car park. We drove here separately, neither of us wanting to leave our cars on that road.

‘Now what’s the plan?’ Abbot asks when we get to my car.

‘I need to tell Matt everything. I just hope he understands why I kept it all from him.’

Abbot places his hand on my shoulder. ‘He will. He loves you, Sim, and you’ve got through worse than this.’

I know he’s right, but it’s a lot to expect Matt to just accept everything. ‘He’s still in Cornwall, but I’m too shaken up to drive all that way now and I wouldn’t get there till late, so I’ll have to get him to come back. And that means him getting the train, which will take hours.’

‘Do you want to stay at mine until he gets back? So you’re not alone. Or I’ll come to yours with you?’

Although his offer is tempting, I will not let fear of Nick Gibbs dictate what I do. I tell Abbot this, and that I’ll be fine.

‘I really don’t think it’s a good idea to be alone, Sim. Seriously. Think what you’ve been through today.’

‘Let me try it and see how I get on. I can call you if I get worried about anything.’

Abbot reluctantly agrees. ‘But make sure you call me later.’

With a promise to do this, I watch him drive off before I open my car door and slip inside, locking the door. I need to call Matt and I hunt for my mobile until I remember Charlotte stole it. I check my watch and realise the shops are still open. There is bound to be a phone shop in Wood Green, but I don’t want to traipse the streets when Nick Gibbs could be anywhere. So instead I start the engine and head in the direction of the north circular and Brent Cross shopping centre.

‘
S
imone
? I’ve been worried. I thought you’d be on your way back by now. I’ve been trying to call you. And what number is this?’ Despite his concern, Matt’s voice immediately soothes me.

‘I’m sorry. I lost my phone and had to buy a new pay-as-you-go one. Just for now.’

‘That’s a pain. So where are you?’

The truth is I am sitting in Brent Cross car park, staring at row after row of cars, but I can’t tell Matt the reason I am here. Not yet. I don’t want him worrying all the way home. ‘I’m just leaving work. Listen, I know I said I’d come back down there, but … something’s … look, would you mind coming home on the train? Tonight? I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. I just don’t feel up to driving but I need to see you. We need to talk.’

Matt will know that I would never normally ask this of him. He will see that the situation demands his acceptance. ‘Sure,’ he says, after a moment. ‘But I’m worried now. Are you okay?’

‘I’ll be fine. Just really not well. So you’ll come back tonight?’

He sighs. ‘I can’t pretend I’m not disappointed. I was looking forward to a couple more days here with you, but, yes, of course I’ll come home.’

He tells me he’ll text me the train details so I’ll know when to expect him back, and we hang up. That was the easy part. Telling him the truth will not be so straightforward.

T
he first thing
I do when I get home is double lock the front door and check all the windows are secured. In winter we rarely step out of the back door, but I check it anyway, relieved to find everything as it should be.

I still haven’t eaten so I make peanut butter on toast and take it upstairs, wolfing it down as I run a bath. My limbs are aching and I need to wash the day off my skin. I also need this time of serenity before I break the news to Matt.

His train gets into Paddington at 11:44 p.m., so I have a few hours to prepare. Everything will change after this. He will finally know, like I now do, what happened to Helena.

I don’t bother getting dressed, but slip on my fluffy dressing gown and go downstairs to wait for Matt. The house is eerily quiet, but I don’t want the television or radio on. I need to be alert, to listen for unfamiliar sounds.

Finding a half-finished bottle of wine in the cupboard, I pour myself a glass, relishing the strong dry taste as it slips down my throat. But it doesn’t ease my edginess. I take my glass and the bottle to the living room and sit on the sofa, my feet curled beneath me. Sleep starts to catch up with me by the time I’ve finished my wine, and although I try to keep it at bay, I am powerless to stop my eyes closing.

A thud forces me awake. I can’t tell where it’s come from, or what it is, but I know I didn’t dream it. This is confirmed when it happens again. It sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen. Immediately I am alert, thrown back to my experience with Nick Gibbs earlier, ready to defend myself. I look around the room for something to use as a weapon, but the only suitable object is the wine bottle on the coffee table. Pouring what’s left of the contents into my glass, I stand up, grip the bottle upside down by its neck, and slowly make my way into the hall.

The thuds grow louder as I reach the kitchen, and my grip on the bottle grows tighter. I don’t turn the light on, but in the darkness my eyes are drawn to the back door.

Someone is out there. I clearly see a shadowy figure the closer I get, and although I can’t make out his face, it can only be one person. Nick Gibbs.

But why isn’t he trying to smash the glass? Is he just trying to scare me first? Taunt me with the threat of what he will do?

My eyes flick to the phone on the corner of the worktop and I make my way towards it, knowing his eyes will be on me. I try not to panic; there is still time to call 999 before he can smash the double-glazed glass. And even if I don’t manage to tell the police what’s going on before he gets in, I’m sure they trace any calls that are cut off. They will be here.

‘Simone? Simone?’

The voice is muffled by the glass but it is not Nick Gibbs’s voice. I have heard it before, but it’s definitely not his. It’s not a menacing voice, and sounds more desperate than anything else. Clutching the phone in one hand and the wine bottle in the other, I move closer towards the door. And then I realise the man peering in is Chris Harding.

‘What are you doing out there?’ I shout through the glass.

‘I’ve been trying to call you all day but you haven’t answered. I was worried. We said we’d keep each other updated.’

I place the wine bottle on the table and grab the back door key from its hook. It is fortuitous that Chris has turned up like this as I only have his number on my stolen phone, and there is no other way for either of us to contact each other.

‘Why didn’t you knock on the front door?’ I ask, opening the door.

A draft of cold air follows him in. ‘You said your husband didn’t know anything, and I wasn’t sure if he was here. Sorry it’s so late. I thought if he came to the back door I’d just run.’

I tell him Matt’s not here, but that he’ll be back soon, and pull out a chair for him. ‘You’d better sit down. I’ve got a lot to tell you.’

His expression becomes increasingly anxious as I fill him in. Several times he starts to ask questions, but I tell him to let me finish. We don’t have much time before Matt gets home. I deliberately leave out the part about the video on Daniel’s phone for now, because I need him to be prepared before I voice my suspicion that it is his sister being filmed.

‘So the police are looking for this Nick Gibbs?’ he says, when I’ve finished. ‘But what about Lucas?’

‘I think they’re both in it together. I mean, they’ve been friends since university, so I’m sure finding Nick will lead them to him.’

Chris slams his hand on the table. ‘They need to hurry up. Mel’s been missing for months now, and they’re only now doing something about it. They didn’t take it seriously but—’

‘They needed evidence, Chris. And now they’ve got it. Just focus on that.’ I don’t point out that it’s not really Mel they’re looking for, because it doesn’t matter. Finding Lucas should provide all the answers.

‘I just need to ask you something,’ I say. ‘Do you have any pictures of Mel?’

Chris reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. ‘I’ve got some on here. Why?’

‘Just show me,’ I say. I can’t tell him about the video until I’ve prepared him, and I want to be sure it’s her first.

‘Here she is.’ He passes the phone to me, and I immediately know it’s the same girl. Although her eyes were closed in the video, her hair is the same blonde bob as the girl in the photo, and her prominent cheekbones are clearly recognisable. The girl in the video is Chris Harding’s sister.

I struggle to find the words to explain this to him. I study his eyes as I speak, and the change in them the moment realisation hits. ‘But … are you sure? You said her eyes were closed, so how can you be sure it’s Mel?’

I tell him I am, and he flings himself up, the chair sliding away behind him. ‘Fuck! Fuck!’ he cries, his palms crushing the sides of his head. ‘No!’

‘I’m so sorry, Chris. But Lucas is definitely connected to her disappearance, you know that for sure now, so you can go to the police again.’

‘But we don’t have the video!’ he yells. ‘Shit, I can’t believe this. I was right all along and I’ve wasted all this time when I could have done more to find Mel. She could be anywhere now.’

‘I know how distressing this is, but the police will look into it now.’

For several minutes he doesn’t speak, but sits down again and buries his head in his hands, his elbows resting on the table.

‘You’re right,’ he says, eventually, slowly raising his head. ‘I’m going to the police station now. Thanks for telling me.’ He walks towards the back door but stops before he walks out. ‘What’s your new number? So we can keep in touch. I mean, I know the police are investigating now, but it would be nice to hear from you. And hopefully they’ll find your friend’s daughter and Mel. Safe.’

We exchange numbers and I lock the door behind him. I was lucky it wasn’t Nick Gibbs, but I’m not taking any chances.

Less than ten minutes later, Matt arrives home. I rush to the front door to greet him and he wraps his arms around me, the cold from outside emanating from his skin.

‘Are you okay?’ he asks, as I lead him to the living room. ‘I’ve been worried about you.’ He feels my forehead with the back of his hand. ‘You’re a bit hot.’ He kisses my cheek.

We sit on the sofa, and I realise he still has his coat on. ‘I’m okay really. It’s not … well, it’s not anything wrong with me. But can we talk? I know you’ve just got back and you must be shattered, but it’s important.’

He leans forward. ‘Simone, honey, you’re worrying me. What’s going on? What’s happened?’ He spots my wine glass on the coffee table and points to it. ‘Let me just get one for myself and then you can tell me what’s going on, okay?’

While he’s gone, I sit up straight and pull my dressing gown tighter around me.

Matt comes back with a glass of wine and I notice he has taken off his coat.

‘I’m sorry you had to come all the way back on the train,’ I say. ‘How was the journey?’ I am stalling for time.

‘Well, I finished the medical journal I was reading and almost a whole novel, so it wasn’t bad. Anyway, are you going to tell me what’s going on? I’m really worried, Simone.’

This is it. I take a deep breath and tell him everything that’s happened since Grace disappeared. And this time I tell him about Lucas and what she thought she’d done to him.

Just like Chris Harding did earlier, Matt tries to interrupt a few times but I beg him to save his questions until I’ve finished, which he reluctantly does. And when he is up to date, I inhale deeply and wait for the bombardment.

But I have stunned him into silence. It feels like hours have ticked by when he finally speaks, and I turn away from his red face. ‘Why wouldn’t you tell me? I can’t believe this. After everything we’ve been through? You could have been killed! What were you thinking? And how could you trust Abbot before me? You should have gone straight to the police!’

A thick vein appears on his forehead, but he falls silent again. No doubt he is tallying up all the lies I have told him, wondering if he’ll ever be able to trust me again.

Eventually he speaks, and it’s not to give me a lecture on my betrayal. ‘So … it’s possible Grace is our daughter?’

I nod. ‘Ginny seems to think so. And it does look that way.’

‘And this Ginny – she’s had her all along?’ His hand clenches into a fist.

‘Yes, but she didn’t know. She thought she was helping her brother’s friend.’

Matt shakes his head. ‘But we only have her word for that, don’t we? I mean, what proof is there that she didn’t know? She could be lying.’

‘There isn’t any proof yet. But I believe her. And you have to trust me, Matt. I’m usually good at reading people.’ But as I say this I think of Nick Gibbs, how I got him so wrong. And Charlotte Bray. Since Helena’s abduction I have learnt to mistrust everyone, but they both had me fooled.

Matt shakes his head. ‘And now we don’t know where she is. I can’t believe we found her, only to lose her again. If only her DNA sample hadn’t been contaminated.’

‘The police are looking for her now,’ I say. ‘They’ll find her.’

‘They didn’t last time, did they?’

I am surprised to hear Matt being so negative, but then he hasn’t had time to get his head around it all. ‘No, but she’s eighteen, not a baby, so surely it will be easier for them to find her this time?’

He doesn’t answer, but tears form in the corners of his eyes, something I haven’t seen since Helena was abducted. ‘But they don’t know she’s our daughter?’

I tell him it doesn’t matter at the moment, that knowing this information won’t make them search harder, but he doesn’t look convinced.

‘Why wouldn’t you tell them? They know everything else now, so why not the whole truth?’

‘I know it sounds strange, but I did it for Ginny. No matter what’s happened, she’s been Grace’s mum for all these years, so unless I find out she did actually know about the abduction, how can I get her into trouble and put Grace through even more hell when she’s found?’

But even as I say this, and mean every word, I wonder whether I did the right thing by omitting this detail from my statement. After all, isn’t it all tied to Lucas, and now Nick? Would knowing all the facts about Helena’s abduction help them? But I will speak to Ginny before I decide anything.

‘Are we safe here?’ Matt asks. ‘I mean, does this Nick Gibbs know where we live?’

‘I suppose he could find out, but with the police after him do you think he’d be stupid enough to turn up here?’

Matt stands up and crosses to the window, pulling the edge of the curtain back to peer into the dark street. ‘Anything’s possible. Look what he’s done so far. I’m getting a knife to take up with us.’

I don’t object, and he disappears to the kitchen and comes back with our largest carving knife, placing it on the arm of the sofa as he sits down again. ‘Just in case,’ he says, and I am in full agreement.

He pulls out his phone and begins tapping the screen. ‘I need to know what Nick Gibbs looks like,’ he explains. ‘You say he owns a computer games company?’ Seconds later he is showing me the screen, asking if this is the right man.

A shiver runs through me, but I manage a nod. The kind face smiling back at me does not resemble the man I saw today.

‘I’m still angry you didn’t tell me, but I’m also proud of you,’ Matt says, when he’s finished reading about Nick Gibbs. He slides his phone back in his pocket. ‘You handled it so well. Not just today, but this whole week.’

I shake my head. ‘No, I didn’t. I should have told you. But I didn’t want to get you tied up in anything … you know … if Grace had killed someone then …’

‘I do understand,’ he says. ‘I don’t like it, but I get it. I think.’

We sit in silence for a while, finishing our wine, each of us alone with our thoughts, until Matt finally speaks again. ‘I can’t get my head around all this. I need time to process it. We both need some sleep so let’s go to bed now and maybe things will seem clearer in the morning.’

N
either of us sleeps well
, despite our exhaustion. The slightest of noises has Matt jumping up, reaching for the knife under his pillow. But they are all false alarms. Whatever Nick is planning, he isn’t making an appearance here for now. Perhaps he thinks it’s too soon, that the police may be watching the house, waiting for him. I try to let this thought comfort me, but I still can’t sleep.

But more than worrying about Nick Gibbs turning up, what keeps me awake is the niggling thought I’ve had since Chris Harding was here earlier.

The thought that in the video, his sister didn’t look unconscious. She looked dead.