Her Missing Daughter: A Gripping Psychological Thriller Page 6

  Of course, that was it. No wonder Nicole was looking tense. Being pregnant during her last year and final exams hadn’t been easy, and her mother’s reaction hadn’t helped. She’d been a mixture of disappointment, fury and panic rolled into one.

  Nicole had spent days crying and fretting over what she should do. It would be nice to travel back in time and tell Nicole what a wonderful mother she’d be. She’d manage to pass her exams and build a career. Nicole had been an excellent nurse, and more importantly, she’d been a wonderful mother. Sienna was the sweetest baby and happiest toddler I’d ever known. She’d always been giggling.

  With a sigh, I rolled over, pulling up the duvet. Tomorrow I would start a full scale effort to find Sienna. I couldn’t change what had happened to Nicole, but I could try to help her daughter.

  The police would be ringing around and talking to her friends, but if Sienna was scared and upset, she wouldn’t want to talk to the police. If I spoke to her friends, I was sure it would be different. She’d know I’d have her best interests at heart.

  Chapter Nine

  I woke at two a.m. with my heart pounding and my skin clammy with sweat.

  Disorientated, I shivered beneath the bed covers. I’d dreamt of Sienna and Nicole. They’d both been standing on the footbridge over the dark water of the ford in New Mill Lane. It didn’t start out as a bad dream. I’d spotted them from some distance away and called out. They both waved at me and smiled as I walked towards them. The air was warm and birds were singing when suddenly gunshots cracked through the air. Nicole was hit, and I watched a deep red stain creep across her white blouse, before she tipped forward and tumbled into the ford.

  I’d called out to Sienna, telling her to get off the bridge, to run to me, but she didn’t. She leaned over the edge of the bridge, reaching out for her mother, teetering there for a moment before she too tumbled down into the dark waters of the River Blackwater.

  I stayed still, rigid in the bed, willing my heart rate to slow down.

  It was just a dream, I told myself. A nightmare. I tried to reason with my panicking mind and think logically. There was no reason to believe Sienna was with her mother when she was shot. The police would have checked the area around the ford on the River Blackwater.

  I knew I wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep for some time, so I threw back the bedsheets and switched on the lamp on the nightstand. I pulled out the tea tray from a deep drawer in the desk. The hotel had provided a selection of herbal, black and green teas along with small plastic sachets of milk. I filled the tiny kettle with mineral water and set about making myself a cup of chamomile tea.

  While I waited for the tea to cool a little, I opened up my laptop and clicked on the messages icon in Facebook. There was nothing new. The small circle was still at the bottom of my message to Sienna, indicating that it hadn’t been read.

  I closed the lid of the laptop and rested my hand on the cool surface before walking to the window. Pulling open the curtains, I looked out towards the woods behind the hotel. Everything looked ominous in the dark. Something evil lurking in every shadow.

  I shook my head. There was nothing to be scared of here in England. There were no big cats lurking in the woods. No snakes hiding in the grass. So why was it that I felt more scared here tonight than I ever had in India?

  I picked up my tea and carried it back over to the window. I breathed in the warm, steamy chamomile scent before taking a sip.

  A movement in the darkness caught my eye. A small fallow deer appeared at the edge of the woods. It seemed to sense it was being watched and raised its head. I didn’t move. Finally, sensing it was safe, the deer continued to carefully pick its way along the line of trees.

  I watched it for a long time before it finally ducked beneath the cover of the woods again, and I was alone.

  I stood at the window for an hour or more until, shivering, I closed the curtain and made my way back to bed.

  I didn’t wake again until eight a.m. and blinked in surprise at the time when I checked my mobile phone. After the nightmare, I’d slept well, better than I had in a long time. There were no night crickets chirping and no snores coming through the thin wall from Rich in the next room.

  I felt guilty for sleeping so soundly. After I used the bathroom, I checked my laptop for a message from Sienna, but I had no new messages. She still hadn’t even read the message yet. My stomach churned. Sienna was a teenager, and didn’t all teenagers exist with their phones permanently attached to their hands?

  Trying not to think the worst, I closed the laptop again and began to get dressed.

  By the time I reached the dining hall for breakfast, it was almost empty. The smell of fried bacon and coffee made my stomach rumble in anticipation. A fresh-faced, brunette waitress smiled at me and directed me to a table beside an elderly couple working their way through full English breakfasts. They looked up at me curiously as I sat down, and I smiled politely at them and muttered, “Good morning.”

  The waitress handed me a card menu and asked me whether I’d like tea or coffee. I asked for coffee and she left me to read the menu.

  I’d barely started reading the first few lines when a booming voice called my name. I froze and looked up.

  “Abbie Morris! It is you, isn’t it?” Nigel Clark got up from a table in the corner and began walking towards me.

  I wanted to curl up into a ball. I’d managed to avoid this sort of confrontation for the past five years, and surely I should be desensitised to it by now. Nigel, had been in my year at secondary school, and was a close friend of my ex-fiancé, Rob.

  “Nige, nice to see you again,” I said, trying to sound relaxed and natural although I really wanted to bolt for my room.

  “It’s Nigel now, actually. It sounds a bit more mature, don’t you think?”

  The years hadn’t been kind to Nigel. He was losing his hair. He’d always had a big build and had put on more weight since I’d seen him last. He wore a pair of navy trousers and a pale blue shirt that was miles too tight.

  He stood there staring at me, expecting me to continue the conversation.

  I wished he would just go away. “Are you here for a meeting?”

  Nigel was one of those people who never moved far from their hometown, and I couldn’t imagine anything would have persuaded him to move away from Wokingham. The hotel was also a conference centre, so I suspected that was why he was here.

  “I’m staying here on business,” he said putting his thumbs in his belt loops and looking speculatively at the empty chair at my table.

  There was no way I was going to invite him to sit down and join me. That was the last thing I wanted.

  “You’re staying here? But don’t you still live in Wokingham? It’s only a few miles away.”

  He broke out in a broad grin and winked at me. “Don’t tell anyone, but sometimes I need to get away from the house for a bit of peace and quiet. It’s hard when you have to work all day and then get home and have to look after a house full of kids.”

  Nigel had married Julia shortly before my own failed wedding. As far as I knew, Nigel only had two children. It wouldn’t have surprised me to learn he expected his wife to do all the childcare and housework. Using social media made it easy to keep up with the lives of acquaintances without actually communicating with them.

  “I just want to say I think the way Rob treated you was terrible. It must have been horrible for you. The least he could have done was to tell you before the day of the wedding.”

  I slipped down low in my seat, cringing. “It wasn’t the best day of my life.”

  The waitress arrived with my pot of coffee and I thanked her.

  “I’m sure I would have done the same thing if I were you,” Nigel said. “I don’t blame you for hiding away in Africa.”

  “India, actually.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I knew you’d gone somewhere like that. I was surprised to see you back here actually.”

  He hadn’t mentioned Nicole’s
murder and I could only guess that was because he hadn’t yet heard. I should tell him, I thought, break the news to him gently. He’d known Nicole, too. But I was reluctant to share anything about Nicole’s memory with this man. He would be full of fake sympathies just like he’d been after Rob dumped me. Nicole’s death felt too important to mention in a casual conversation only to have Nigel spread the word about her death like it was an item of gossip.

  It had been all over the local as well as the national news so it was surprising Nigel hadn’t read about it. Hardworking businessman or not, most people our age these days checked Facebook at least once a day.

  Before I could choose the right words to tell him about Nicole, we both heard a high-pitched female voice coming from the other side of the room.

  “Nigel!”

  We’d both turned and watched a tall woman sashaying towards us as though she was on a catwalk or the red carpet. I don’t think I’d ever seen somebody sashay in real-life before, but this woman was certainly working it. Swaying her hips, she made her way towards us, balancing on a pair of impossibly high heels. The heels were the first thing I noticed — silver and sparkly, definitely more suited for evening wear, but they were pretty!

  I’d never been a follower of fashion, hence the fact I was happy to wear Crocs back in India just because they were practical, but even I had to admire those sparkly shoes. Though, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have been able to wear them without falling on my face.

  When my gaze left her feet and travelled up to her face, I realised she seemed vaguely familiar. I knew her from somewhere, but she most certainly wasn’t Nigel’s wife, Julia.

  I could smell her heavy floral perfume when she was a few feet away.

  If I was a kinder person, I could have given Nigel the benefit of the doubt and put her down as one of his business colleagues, but deep down I knew that wasn’t true. The possessive way she looked at him and the bright red stain on Nigel’s cheeks told me this woman was his bit on the side.

  He hadn’t expected to get caught out.

  “I thought you said you didn’t have time for breakfast this morning,” Nigel stammered.

  “I changed my mind, sweetie.” She pouted and shot me a cold look as though weighing me up and deciding it was just as well she’d changed her mind about breakfast.

  Of course, in her eyes, I was clearly a man-eater unable to resist snapping up this delicious hunk of man that stood between us. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the menu.

  In a sulk over getting caught, Nigel said, “I’ve finished my breakfast. I’m just about to leave.”

  “Suit yourself,” the woman said and stuck her nose in the air before making her way towards a freshly-laid table.

  Nigel cleared his throat nervously. “Um, Abbie, I don’t suppose you’d keep this to yourself if you see Julia. It’s really not what it looks like.”

  I hadn’t seen Julia for over five years and it was unlikely I’d run into her on this trip back, but I felt a pang of compassion for the woman and was sorely tempted to visit her today to let her know what a scumbag her husband was.

  “No, Nigel. I don’t owe you any loyalty, and I don’t want to be involved in your sordid little secrets. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to eat my breakfast in peace.”

  The elderly couple at the next table smothered their laughter as Nigel stalked out of the dining room.

  “Good for you,” the white-haired lady said and raised her cup of tea in my direction.

  Chapter Ten

  I managed to eat my breakfast without any further interruptions and quickly polished off my toast and marmalade. I needed a plan for today. Looking for Sienna wasn’t going to be easy. The obvious first step was to talk to her friends, but they didn’t know me, and it was likely they’d close ranks against an outsider. I also didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes and thought it was best if I told Sienna’s grandmother what I was planning to do.

  I telephoned Marilyn after breakfast from the lobby area of the conference centre, where the call charges were cheaper than from my room or my mobile. I sat beside a large window and punched in the familiar number. It felt strange. Marilyn still lived in the house where Nicole had grown up. We’d been friends before the invention of mobile phones, but that hadn’t stopped us spending hours chatting away to each other. We’d get home from school and immediately ask to phone each other on the landline. My parents would insist I waited until after six p.m. when it was off-peak. “Why on earth do you need to call her now when you’ve spent all day at school with her?” my exasperated mother would ask.

  The phone was answered on the third ring, but to my surprise it wasn’t Marilyn who answered. It was Janet.

  “It’s Abbie,” I said. “I’m sorry to bother you. I hoped I could talk to your mum.”

  Janet huffed. “She’s pretty upset at the moment, Abbie. Is it important?”

  The last thing I wanted to do was intrude and make things harder for Marilyn. If it had been anybody else, I would have said I’d call back, but Janet had always been prickly, and I sensed her reluctance to put Marilyn on the line was more because she disliked me.

  “Yes, it is important.”

  There was a silence on the other end of the line. Janet was probably deciding whether or not to hang up. Finally she said, “All right. I’ll see if she wants to talk to you.”

  I soon heard Marilyn’s voice in the background. “Of course, I want to talk to her.” Then, “Abbie, is everything okay?”

  “Yes, have you heard anything from Sienna?”

  “No, there’s been nothing. The police aren’t getting anywhere either. I’m starting to think…” She trailed off and then inhaled a harsh breath. “Well, I’m starting to get very worried.”

  “I know the police have spoken to her friends, but I thought I might talk to them myself. They might be more willing to open up to me.”

  “Maybe they will. If anyone knows where she is, it will be Zach. Sienna told her mother they were just friends, but she and Zach are joined at the hip.”

  “What’s Zach’s last name?”

  “Ryan.”

  Zach Ryan. He would be my first port of call.

  “Thanks, Marilyn. I’ll try Zach first and let you know if I find out anything.”

  We said goodbye and I hung up.

  I decided to contact Zach via Facebook and went back to my room to use the laptop. It was so dark in there it made me feel claustrophobic. I pushed open the curtains wide and then sat at the desk.

  Zach Ryan was one of Sienna’s friends on Facebook, so he was easy enough to find. His profile picture told me he had black hair and extremely pale skin. His hair was cut in a jagged style with a long fringe falling down one side of his face. He looked delicate and the idea that he was Sienna’s boyfriend surprised me. Some of Sienna’s friends had reached out publicly to Zach, posting how sorry they were on his wall. But Zach, like Sienna, hadn’t replied.

  That didn’t give me much hope. If he wasn’t replying to his friends, would he really take the time to reply to me?

  Still, I had to try.

  I typed out a quick message, introducing myself and asking him to contact me. After pressing send, I stared at the laptop. There wasn’t much I could do now but wait. I jotted down a few names from Sienna’s friends list, thinking I would contact them next if I got nothing from Zach.

  The top bar on the screen of the laptop told me it was nearly 10 a.m.

  My life would be a lot easier if I had a UK based phone or at least a sim card. I was pretty sure you could pick up a pay-as-you-go sim from any supermarket. Maybe that should be my first port of call.

  The laptop made a pinging noise, notifying me of an incoming message.

  Holding my breath, I clicked on the message icon. It wasn’t from Sienna, but it was the next best thing. Zach had replied to my message.

  I know who you are. Sienna told me about you. What do you want to know?

  I stared at the message
for a moment. Sienna told me about you. Was that a good thing? The message was emotionless and hard to interpret. It almost felt as though he were accusing me of something, but maybe that was my guilt talking.

  I typed a reply:

  I just want to talk. Could we meet? I could come to you.

  Waiting for his reply, was frustrating.

  Okay. We could meet in town.

  Zach lived in Wokingham so I assumed that was where he meant.

  Great. Meet you in Costa Coffee? I can be there in half an hour.

  Okay.

  It didn’t take me long to gather my things together and leave the hotel. The drive to Wokingham from Eversley would take less than fifteen minutes at this time of day, but I would need to park and wanted to be at the coffee shop before Zach arrived.

  If I got there late, it could give him a reason to change his mind.

  Wokingham is a market town with an abundance of coffee shops and chain restaurants like Zizi’s and Nando's. When I’d lived there, the selection of shops and restaurants had been far more limited. Things had certainly changed.

  I parked in Waitrose car park and walked through Old Row Court to Rose Street. After stopping at NatWest to get some cash, I headed along the marketplace to Costa Coffee. It was a warm day and the town was busy. Renovation work was underway and there were signs and placards up everywhere.

  I ducked out of the way of a fast moving mobility scooter, driven by a determined pensioner, and entered Costa. Compared to the bright sunshine outside, inside it was dark. I joined the end of the queue and looked around for Zach. There were a few tables taken, many by teenagers, but that wasn’t much of a surprise considering it was the school holidays.

  There was no sign of Zach yet.

  It was noisy as the baristas operated multiple machines, including a smoothie maker. Small children belonging to the woman in front of me in the queue, squealed and tried to chase each other around the tables. I felt for the woman who clearly needed a caffeine fix. Hopefully she’d take the children to burn off some of their energy in the park after her coffee.