Lost Child: A Gripping Psychological Thriller Page 16

  “I suppose I needed something to put my energy into after Mark left. I’ve always been like that. I like to have a project to keep me busy. I’ve had the building work on the house to supervise as well as the business, and it’s kept me really busy.”

  “Do you keep in touch with Mark?”

  Pippa’s ex-husband, Mark Clarkson, had left her shortly after Jenna’s disappearance. Although the fact they’d been going through a difficult patch had hardly been a secret. Their full-on shouting matches were legendary.

  “Not really,” Pippa said. “We’ve both moved on.”

  “He moved to Warwickshire, didn’t he?”

  Pippa nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Another?” She held up her empty cup, but I shook my head.

  “No, thanks. I’d better be going. I’ve held you up enough.”

  I got to my feet, and Pippa walked me to the door. “I enjoyed catching up, Beth. We should do it again sometime.”

  I nodded as I reached for the door handle. “Yes, that would be nice.”

  I meant it, too. I’d been dreading seeing Pippa again but had found talking to someone who had known Kate so well was comforting rather than upsetting.

  “We could go out for a meal, and maybe I could persuade Daniel to come along.”

  I had to force myself to smile. “Maybe.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  After I had left Pippa’s, I went straight home, and as promised, helped Mum in the garden. We left the back door open so we could hear the telephone if the police called. But yet again, the day ended with no new information, and we were no closer to finding Jenna.

  After dinner, I could barely keep my eyes open. The lack of sleep was catching up with me, and I decided to have an early night. After saying goodnight to Mum, I cleaned my teeth, stripped off my clothes and changed into a long T-shirt and pyjama bottoms.

  I sat on the edge of the bed clutching the bottle of sleeping tablets, feeling bone weary. Did I really need them? It was awful to be so tired yet unable to get more than a few hours sleep each night. My eyelids were drooping, so smothering a yawn, I left the bottle on my nightstand and slipped between the sheets. After thirty minutes of lying awake, tossing and turning, I finally gave in, grabbed the bottle of tablets and swallowed one of the small, blue tablets.

  At first, I thought the tablet wasn’t working. Ten minutes after taking it, I was still staring up at the ceiling, then finally, I closed my eyes and drifted off. For the first time in a while, I had a vivid dream.

  I was alone, walking through Christchurch Meadow towards the River Isis in Oxford. There was a heavy fog descending, and long grass wound around my legs as I steadily made my way forward to the misty riverbank. When I got closer to the river, I could hear the sound of a child singing, and my heart rate increased. It sounded so much like Jenna.

  Twinkle twinkle little star… How I wonder what you are…

  I tried to walk faster, ignoring the grass and wildflowers wrapping their way around my ankles. But when I got to the riverbank it was deserted. I was too late.

  Nothing grew by the river. The sandy earth was barren, but there was a faint footprint. I’d bent down to take a closer look when a movement caught my attention.

  A little girl was playing close to the edge of the river. She had her back to me and was reaching for something she’d dropped in the water.

  “Be careful!” I called out and began to run towards her.

  I couldn’t see her face, but from her blonde hair, I knew it was Jenna. I couldn’t let her get away from me again. But before I reached her, a man stepped out in front of me. He seemed to appear from nowhere and held out his hands, grabbing my wrists.

  He laughed. “What’s the rush, Beth?”

  When he spoke, I realised I knew him. It was Philip Bowman, Luke’s brother. But he looked different. Happy. Gone was the gaunt, haunted man I’d seen just the other day.

  He wore the same teasing, slightly bored expression I remembered from when Luke and I were just kids. I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let me.

  “She shouldn’t be playing by the river, Phil. It’s not safe.”

  Philip Bowman turned to look at the little girl and said, “You’re quite right.”

  He released his grip on my wrists but kept a firm hold on my right hand, forcing me to walk at the same pace as him as he ambled along as though we had all the time in the world. It was maddening. I wanted to rush to Jenna, but he kept pulling me back.

  “Isabel,” he called in a singsong voice. “You shouldn’t be playing by the river. It’s very dangerous.”

  My head whipped around to face him. “It’s not Isabel,” I insisted.

  I turned back to look at the little girl. She was still singing to herself, and now I could see it was quite clearly Jenna, but she didn’t look any older than the day she’d disappeared.

  “Jenna! Come here.”

  But she ignored me. Could she not hear me?

  “Of course, it’s Isabel,” Phil said. “Don’t you think I would know my own daughter?”

  I shook my head. No. Isabel had been blonde with blue eyes, like Jenna, but they didn’t look that similar.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s Jenna. We’ve found her.”

  Phil’s grip tightened painfully around my fingers, and he turned to face me, his face filled with fury as he roared, “No. It’s Isabel, my daughter.”

  The pain in my hand shot up through my arm and made me cry out and fall to my knees.

  Jenna cried out in alarm, and I looked up just in time to see her fall backwards into the water. Finally, Phil let go of my hand, and I was able to scramble forwards on my hands and knees. But when I reached the water’s edge she had disappeared beneath the surface.

  “No!” I waded into the water, but Phil held me back.

  He was shaking my shoulders. I couldn’t fight him off…

  “Beth! Beth! Wake up!”

  My eyelids flew open, and I saw Mum’s concerned, pale face staring down at me. Her hands were on my shoulders, trying to restrain me.

  I blinked, slowly waking up. “Sorry…I must have had a bad dream.”

  I sat up when Mum released her grip on my shoulders. The sheets were twisted around my legs, and my T-shirt was damp with sweat and sticking to my skin.

  Mum looked frightened. I reached out to squeeze her hand reassuringly.

  “It was just a dream,” I repeated, as much for my benefit as hers. “I’m sorry. It must have scared you.”

  Mum pressed a hand against her chest and then sat on the edge of my bed. “I heard you screaming. I didn’t know what to think.”

  The walls were thick in the old part of the house. I must have been quite loud for Mum to hear me.

  “It was about Jenna,” I said and pushed my hair back from my face.

  “Yes, you called out her name. I’ll get you a glass of water,” Mum said, shooting me an anxious look before she left the bedroom.

  I climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. It was just a dream. It didn’t mean anything. It was simply my subconscious working overtime. The tablets probably hadn’t helped.

  The bathroom mirror caused me to cringe. My hair stuck up at all angles, and my face was deathly white. It had only been a dream, but it had felt so real. A niggling worry wormed its way into my brain. Could Phil Bowman have been involved in Jenna’s disappearance? Was that why I’d had this dream? Could there be some forgotten detail buried deep in my mind? I shook my head. The idea was ridiculous. I’d known Phil Bowman for years.

  The following morning, I woke up feeling pretty good. After the nightmare, I’d slept straight through and felt better for it. A sense of foreboding still lingered from the dream, but I pushed the paranoia to one side.

  As soon as Mum walked into the kitchen, I could see she hadn’t slept well at all. Her eyes were puffy and red, and despite the fact she’d applied her usual makeup, her face looked pale. We picked at our toast and drank cup after
cup of coffee as we waited for the minutes to tick down to nine o’clock when we planned to call the police and see if there was any fresh information.

  Unfortunately, we were disappointed. There had been no new developments overnight.

  “No news is good news, I suppose,” Mum said glumly as she hung up the phone after speaking to DI Sharp.

  I groaned. “I can’t believe they haven’t made any progress at all. I was so sure that we were going to find her.”

  “And we will,” Mum said firmly. “Just not as quickly as we’d like.”

  “Do you think it’s possible the photograph was faked?”

  Mum looked up with a startled expression on her face. Her hand froze in midair as she’d been just about to pick up her coffee mug.

  I hurriedly tried to explain. “I don’t mean I modified it. Of course, I wouldn’t do that, despite what Daniel may think. I just wondered if there could be some sicko out there who thought it would be a funny thing to do… Maybe someone with a grudge.”

  Mum looked uneasy, but she shook her head. “No, why on earth would anyone want to do something like that?”

  I shrugged. “I certainly ruffled a few feathers after Jenna’s disappearance. I made some crazy accusations. Maybe somebody wants to get back at me.”

  Mum thought it over for a moment. “I really don’t think so, Beth.” She held out her hand for my empty coffee mug and took it over to the coffee machine.

  The waiting around was killing me. I couldn’t focus on anything. Every time I tried to pick up a book, I put it straight back down again. The babbling shows on television were inane and pointless. Every time I tried to concentrate on something else, my mind would drift back to puzzling over who could be behind the photograph.

  For some reason, I hadn’t told Mum that Phil Bowman had been in my dream last night. For one thing, I didn’t want to worry her, and it would make me sound a little paranoid. On the one hand, the Phil I knew wouldn’t ever abduct a child, but his daughter had looked so like Jenna. Grief could do strange things to people. I knew that better than anyone. Could the loss of his daughter have tipped him over the edge?

  “Are you okay, Beth? You’re looking anxious,” Mum said as she set my freshly-filled coffee mug down on a coaster.

  “Last night’s nightmare unnerved me a little, but I’m fine. I might phone Luke and see if he’s free for lunch today.”

  It would do me good to get out of the house, and I could do a little digging. From what Luke had already told me, it was clear Phil was still suffering from the loss of his wife and daughter. Of course, a person couldn’t just rebound from something like that, but I’d like to know more about how he was coping now. He’d certainly reacted very strangely when I’d spotted him in Oxford. I wasn’t planning to make any crazy accusations at this stage, but asking Luke a few questions couldn’t hurt.

  Mum smiled. “That’s a good idea. Hopefully, it will take your mind off things for a little while. I always liked Luke.”

  Everyone liked Luke. Polite, friendly, compassionate and kind to animals. He was perfect. There was nothing not to like.

  “You could do much worse you know,” Mum added. “He’s a nice boy.”

  I gave an over-the-top groan and then grinned. “One, Luke and I are just friends, and two, he’s not a boy anymore.”

  Mum raised her eyebrows and took a sip of her coffee. “Well, he’ll always be a boy to me. Do you remember when he grazed his knees and put holes in his trousers, trying to coax the injured fox out from under Mr Patterson’s car?”

  I smiled at the memory. “I’d forgotten about that.”

  Luke liked to save animals and could never bear to see one in pain. He’d had to come back to our house so Mum could clean him up, put a bit of antiseptic cream on his knees and try to mend his trousers. His own mother would have killed him if she’d seen the state of him.

  I sent Luke a text, inviting him for lunch, my treat.

  Ten minutes later, he sent a reply:

  Great. Lunch at 12:30 suits me, but come to the clinic first. Someone just brought in an abandoned kitten, and he’s adorable.

  I smiled. Typical Luke.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I arrived at Woodrow and Bowman Veterinary Surgery at just after noon.

  The receptionist greeted me with a friendly smile. “Can I help you?”

  “I’m here to meet Luke.”

  She gave me a speculative look. “Oh, I see.”

  She was weighing me up, no doubt, wondering who I was and what sort of relationship I had with Luke. To be honest, I didn’t mind her curiosity. For once, it was nice not to be recognised as the woman who’d lost her niece. I took a seat in the corner, and waited, picking up a magazine to flick through.

  A couple of minutes later, Luke walked into the waiting area and spotted me sitting in the corner. He grinned and started to make his way over to me, but the receptionist cut him off as she quickly strode around the reception desk and stopped directly in front of him.

  “Oh, Luke, there’s someone waiting for you.”

  From the way her gaze shifted from Luke to me, I guessed she was waiting to be introduced. But Luke appeared oblivious. He simply smiled and thanked her before making his way over to me.

  “Do you want to see Spike?”

  “You’ve called the kitten Spike?” I smiled, put the magazine back on the pile and stood up to follow Luke into the treatment area.

  “Wait until you see him,” Luke said. “Then you’ll see why we’ve given him that name.”

  A veterinary assistant was already in the room, trying to feed the tiny kitten using a syringe. The kitten seemed to be getting the milk formula everywhere but in its mouth. Immediately, I saw why the little tabby cat had earned his name. The hair between its ears stood up on end, giving it the look of a miniature mohawk.

  “Hey,” I said looking down at the tiny little thing as I walked up to the bench.

  The veterinary assistant smiled at me. “I’m Claire, and this cute little chap is Spike.”

  “I’m Beth,” I said and melted as I looked at the tiny kitten again. “Nice to meet you, Spike.” I stroked the kitten’s soft fur and felt some of my tension ease almost immediately. “Where did you find him?”

  “Someone brought him in this morning.” The smile left Claire’s face. “They found him in a plastic bag dumped behind the Co-op.”

  I pulled a face. “Poor little thing. Any brothers or sisters found with him?”

  Luke moved to stand beside me. “No sign of his litter mates. I’m hoping they fared better than Spike.”

  “How could anyone abandon a kitten?”

  “People can be very strange,” Claire said.

  “And cruel,” I added.

  Luke moved over to the sink to wash his hands. “I’m heading out for an hour for lunch, Claire. I’ll be back before one thirty to take over from Michael.”

  “Right-oh,” Claire said before turning her attention back to the kitten and making another attempt to get a syringe full of formula into the kitten’s mouth.

  As we left the veterinary surgery, the receptionist shot us yet another curious look.

  “I think you’ve a fan there,” I said teasingly to Luke after we’d walked out of the front door and through the car park. “She is desperate to know who I am.”

  He pulled a face. “That’s Martha. She makes it her business to know everything that goes on in Woodstock. She terrifies me.”

  I tried not to laugh.

  “She is extremely efficient, but also slightly scary. She’ll interrogate me when I get back from lunch.”

  I grinned. “Well, you can tell her we ate at The Feathers. I made a reservation.”

  “You made a reservation? Now, I’m worried.”

  “Worried?”

  “You know me, I’m happy with pub grub. The Feathers is expensive, so you’re making me nervous. I’m starting to think you must want something from me.”

  Luke was only teasin
g, but he was so close to the mark, I flushed. “Don’t be daft. I just fancied trying something different.”

  As we got closer to The Feathers Hotel, Luke nudged me. “Do you remember how we use to laugh at the people coming out of this restaurant?”

  I’d forgotten. The Feathers Hotel used to have a supper club, and Luke and I used to watch the comings and goings of all the old, wealthy clientele. We’d found it hysterical to go around, with our noses in the air, mimicking the old fogeys, as we’d called them, and announcing airily we were off to the supper club.

  Childish, but it had amused us at the time.

  “Well, now I’m one of the old fogeys, I suppose.”

  Luke grinned. “I’m not complaining, especially if it’s your treat.”

  After we’d been shown to our table by a waitress, we both ordered water. Luke because he was working after lunch, and me because I needed to keep a clear head. The restaurant was expensive. There were even linen tablecloths, Luke pointed out, teasing me again.

  We drew the attention of the regular lunchtime crowd. A couple of corpulent businessmen, dining out on an expense account, sat at the table to my left. The other tables were filled with ladies who lunched, all looking alike in the way they dressed and styled their hair.

  Luke didn’t seem to notice anyone else in the restaurant. He’d always had a way of making me feel like I was the most interesting person in the room.

  He fixed me with an open, friendly gaze and asked me what I’d been up to. I was already having second thoughts. What had I been thinking? He’d see through me as soon as I started to ask him questions about his brother, Phil. This had been a terrible idea. I wanted to confide in him, not use him to get details about his brother. I played for time, telling him briefly about my chat with Pippa.

  Now that I was in Luke’s company, my crazy theory went out the window. The idea of his brother being involved in Jenna’s disappearance seemed ridiculous.