Her Missing Daughter: A Gripping Psychological Thriller Page 8

  The door buzzed open as soon as I rang the bell, and after I climbed the narrow staircase, I saw her waiting at the top of the stairs.

  “Come on then,” she said. “Tell me how you managed to get information out of Zach Ryan when the police couldn’t.”

  She spoke scornfully. She thought I was wasting my time. Perhaps I was. After I’d spoken to Zach, I’d been convinced he was hiding something, but now I needed to explain why I felt that way to Janet, I was a lot less sure of myself.

  She led the way into her flat, and I followed her along the hallway into an open plan living area. The air smelled faintly of cigarettes and bleach.

  She gestured towards a light grey sofa, and I sat down.

  “Drink?” she asked.

  The kitchen was at the far end of the living room. There were only two work surfaces, and I spotted a full jug of filter coffee on one of them.

  “I’d love a coffee, thanks,” I said.

  I’d probably regret it later as I knew Janet made her coffee strong and I’d had a latte a short while ago.

  As Janet poured us both a mug of coffee, I told her about my conversation with Zach.

  “He didn’t say he knew where Sienna was in so many words, but he wasn’t worried. If he didn’t know where she was, he’d be as worried as the rest of us. But when I pressed him on it, he insisted that he hadn’t told me anything.”

  Janet looked at me blankly. “Is that it? That’s your big discovery?”

  She put the mugs of coffee down on the glass coffee table in front of me and then sat in the grey armchair opposite.

  “Okay, I’m not saying he broke down and confessed Sienna was hiding in his house, but you have to admit he would be distraught if he didn’t know where Sienna was. He’s one of her closest friends.”

  Janet shrugged and blew over the top of her coffee mug. “People react differently to things, Abbie.”

  “True, but I’d appreciate it if you’d pass my message on to the family liaison officer. Perhaps if the police interviewed Zach again, he might open up to them.”

  Janet regarded me steadily. “All right. I’ll let her know.”

  She pulled a packet of cigarettes out of her pocket, reached for the large, blue glass ashtray on the coffee table and balanced it on the arm of her chair.

  It had been awhile since I’d been in Janet’s flat. I’d seen it once years ago and only for a brief visit. It was nice and airy. The walls were painted in neutral colours, the floor was pale wood and hanging on the walls were a variety of abstract paintings. I wasn’t keen on abstract art, finding it too noisy and messy, but the art Janet had chosen had muted colours and soft shapes. They gave the room a peaceful, relaxing feel.

  “You’ve got some lovely artwork. Are they prints or originals?”

  Janet made a scoffing noise. She really couldn’t take a compliment.

  “What? I’m being serious, Janet. They look nice.”

  I gave up trying to be nice to Janet. It was a losing battle. I took a large gulp of the coffee, wanting to finish it and get away before I managed to annoy her even more.

  “You know they brought that lady in for questioning, don’t you?” Janet said.

  “What lady?”

  “The one you said had an argument with Nicole over a school matter. She’s fuming. You really should think before you speak. It’s very unlikely Nicole was shot because she had an argument over the PTA,” she said sarcastically.

  I shook my head. “I didn’t say anything of the sort. The officer asked me if anything had been bothering Nicole. That was the only thing I could remember Nicole telling me.”

  Janet gave a tight smile. “She really didn’t tell you very much, did she? And to think you two used to be inseparable.”

  I bit down on the inside of my mouth. I knew I shouldn’t react. Janet liked to make barbed comments. It was her way of making people feel as insecure as she did. She’d just lost her sister so I let it slide and changed the subject.

  “I also spoke to Jess Richardson,” I said. “Do you remember her?”

  Janet rolled her eyes and tutted with impatience. “Of course, she is one of Sienna’s closest friends.”

  I was tempted to reply that actually they hadn’t been close for several months just to show Janet she didn’t know it all, but that would be mean and petty, so I held my tongue. “She mentioned Sienna may have started to look for her father.”

  I paused to see how Janet would react.

  She took another sip of her coffee and then said, “Do you know who Sienna’s father is?”

  I shook my head. “Nicole told me it was a one-night stand. She didn’t know his name.”

  Janet laughed. “Does that really sound like Nicole to you?”

  I frowned. It didn’t actually. I hadn’t known Nicole to have a one-night stand before or since. Not that I judged people who did, but Nicole was a serial monogamist.

  “Did she tell you?”

  Janet gave me a sly smile. “If she did, I’m not going to tell you, Abbie. She obviously didn’t want you to know.”

  We were going around in circles. Janet was a master manipulator. Her aim was to make me doubt my friendship with Nicole, to make me feel that I hadn’t been important in her life. I’m not sure whether Janet’s comments were driven by jealousy or just a need to make everybody as unhappy as she was.

  But arguing with Janet was futile. We needed to focus on Sienna.

  “Did Sienna ever ask you about her father?”

  “This is a family matter, Abbie. I don’t feel comfortable discussing it with you.”

  I took a deep breath, controlling my anger. “Fine. I just wanted to point out that if she is in contact with her father, she may have gone to him.”

  Janet nodded slowly and played with the packet of cigarettes on her lap and then said, “Perhaps.”

  “Well, if you do know who he is, you should tell the police so they can question him.”

  Janet nodded again but didn’t reply.

  “Well, thanks for the coffee,” I said, putting my mug on the table. I needed to get out of Janet’s flat before she made me scream.

  “Where are you going now?” Janet asked, finally lighting her cigarette.

  “I thought I’d go and talk to Angie Macgregor. Do you think she’ll be at the house now?”

  “Probably, but I don’t think you should go there. Steve is grieving. He won’t want you hanging around and neither do I for that matter. Are we done?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Janet’s comments made me think long and hard about whether to contact Angie Macgregor. I didn’t want to disturb Steve while he was grieving, but I had no other way of contacting Angie. Her phone call had been disturbing. Of course, a call to tell me my friend had died would be disturbing under any circumstances, but it was Angie’s behaviour that made me think there was a reason she had called me.

  As far as I knew, I was the only one of Nicole’s friends Angie had called, and she hadn’t told Nicole’s family she was going to do so.

  I drove back to Finchampstead slowly, considering my options. In the end, I decided to go to Yew Tree House and hope it was Angie or the family liaison officer who answered the door rather than Steve.

  When I pulled into the driveway, I started to have second thoughts. Maybe there had been nothing ominous about Angie’s phone call. Perhaps she had just called me because she thought that was what Nicole would want. I was upset and probably reading too much into things.

  My tyres crunched over the gravel, and I was tempted to turn around and drive back to the hotel. I sat in the stationary car with the engine running, debating what to do. I could leave her a note with my new contact details. I grabbed my handbag and rummaged inside, looking for a pen and a scrap of paper.

  But I had nothing suitable. I could hardly scrawl something on the back of a receipt and put that through the letterbox without an explanation.

  There were two other cars parked in the driveway. I recognised Steve�
�s silver Audi. Parked a few feet away was a blue Mini. I guessed that had to be Angie’s.

  I wrote my new phone number on the back of the Superdrug receipt and got out of the car. This wouldn’t take long. I could just hand Angie my new number, and it would be up to her if she wanted to contact me again.

  I turned off the engine, climbed out of the car and walked slowly to the front door. Luckily, it was Angie who answered.

  Her eyes widened when she saw me, and after a brief hesitation, she stood back and opened the door wide for me to come in.

  “I’m not stopping,” I said and held out the scrap of paper with my new telephone number. “I just wanted to leave you this in case you wanted to talk to me.”

  Angie’s face paled. “Not now.”

  “I’m sorry for turning up unannounced, but when you called me, I got the sense there was something else you wanted to say.”

  When I said the words aloud, I realised how ridiculous they sounded. I was looking for an extra meaning when there was none.

  Angie waved her hands, gesturing for me to step backwards, and when I did so, she stepped out and pulled the door closed behind her.

  She spoke in a low, raspy voice. “I can’t talk to you here. Meet me in one hour at my house. Number sixty, Reading Road.”

  “But…”

  Angie silenced me with a firm look and a shake of her head. “One hour.”

  Before I could gather my thoughts, she had stepped back into the house and shut the door behind her. For a moment, I stood on the doorstep, rooted to the spot. What was all that about? Was Angie afraid of us being overheard? Or was she afraid of getting into trouble for talking to me while she was supposed to be working? That didn’t seem very likely.

  I turned slowly and walked back to the car, wondering where Lizzie, the family liaison officer was. If she had answered the door, I could have mentioned Zach Ryan’s strange behaviour to her and saved Janet the trouble.

  I was travelling back along the gravel driveway to the main road when I was forced to slam on my brakes. A large forensic police van, followed by two marked police cars were heading towards me at quite a speed. I pulled over to the side of the driveway so they could get past.

  I didn’t leave straight away but watched the police in my rearview mirror. They handed Angie a piece of paper and shortly afterwards Steve appeared by Angie’s side. Even from some distance away, I could see the look of horror on Steve’s face.

  I was so intent on watching what the police were doing I didn’t spot the officer coming up to the side of my car. He rapped on the bodywork and made me jump. I lowered my window.

  The uniformed officer had grey hair, pink cheeks and watery blue eyes.

  “Can I have your name please, Madam?”

  “Abbie Morris. I’m a friend of the family.”

  The police officer didn’t smile.

  “Can I ask what’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry but I’m going to have to ask you to move on,” he said, looking over his shoulder back towards the house.

  I glanced again in the rearview mirror and saw forensic officers dressed in white suits heading into the house. Nicole wasn’t killed here, so what were they looking for? Sienna? Did they suspect something had happened to her?

  “Is this about Sienna?” I twisted in my seat, turning to get a better look at the house. “She’s my goddaughter,” I added in an attempt to get him to tell me something.

  “I’m sorry but you’ll have to move along now.”

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Yew Tree House. A tall officer was leading Steve out of the house towards one of the marked police cars.

  “Are they arresting him?”

  Had Steve killed Nicole? Is that why Sienna hadn’t come home? Maybe she knew he was responsible and was terrified of her stepfather.

  “Mr Carlson is helping us with our enquiries.” He cleared his throat. “I really must insist you drive on.”

  Finally, in a state of shock, I did as he asked. I had so many questions. At least Angie would have some idea what was going on. If she still met me in an hour as arranged, she might be able to give me some answers.

  I pulled out onto Fleet Hill and drove aimlessly. It wasn’t until I was at the junction for New Mill Lane and Park Lane that I realised tears were streaming down my cheeks. Could Steve be a killer? Had Nicole been afraid of her own husband?

  The beep of the horn from the car behind me, jogged me back to reality. I put my hand up to apologise and turned left into New Mill Lane.

  There were no other cars on the lane, and I travelled slowly, taking everything in. There were houses on the left-hand side and only hedgerow and a meadow to the right. Blackbirds sang and swooped over the car as I steadily drove along the winding lane towards the ford.

  This wasn’t a good idea. Visiting the murder scene was a gruesome thing to do. It wouldn’t give me any peace or any answers, but I was compelled to drive on.

  As the ford came into view, I saw that it was still cordoned off, police tape blowing in the breeze. There was no sign of any police vehicles or officers, but it was clear they didn’t want the public contaminating the scene.

  I parked beside a grass verge. My hand was shaking as I opened the door. Stepping outside the car, I realised how peaceful it was. Birdsong, buzzing insects and the hypnotic sound of the sloshing water. The air smelled warm and grassy. Leaning against the car, I stared at the bridge. There was nothing ominous about the scene now.

  When Nicole had stood on the bridge, had she realised her life was in danger? Or had it all been over in seconds?

  The hot sun beat down against the back of my neck and my mouth grew dry. I stood there for some time, staring at the River Blackwater and wondering who could have shot my friend. I couldn’t imagine Steve doing it himself. He didn’t seem like the type of man to own a gun, so I wondered if he had paid someone to do it for him.

  Had the shooter stood in the very spot where I was now? Or had they hidden themselves in the long grass of the meadow, creeping closer and closer until Nicole was in their sights?

  I felt a trickle of sweat make its way down my spine and shivered.

  This speculation wasn’t helping at all. Back in the car, I turned on the air conditioning and drove away without looking back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I parked up near the army barracks in Arborfield and called Nicole’s mother, Marilyn. I hoped the police would have warned her about Steve’s imminent arrest, but if they hadn’t, I thought she should know. As it turned out, she had only just found out and was tearful and angry on the phone. She could only say a few words and kept repeating that she didn’t understand what was happening. I didn’t think she should be alone in such a state, but she promised me Janet was on her way.

  After I hung up, I checked the clock on the dashboard. It was time for my meeting with Angie.

  Angie Macgregor lived in a semi-detached house on Reading Road. It had a large open driveway with an oak tree on the right-hand side. There was no garage, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the blue mini parked in front of the house. I had started to worry that after the unannounced police visit, Angie wouldn’t be able to get away.

  Reading Road was the main A327, and it was busy. I sat indicating and waiting to turn for at least a minute before there was a gap in the oncoming traffic and I could pull onto Angie’s drive. I yanked on the hand brake and climbed out of the car in a rush. I pressed the doorbell and waited impatiently.

  When she opened the door, I had a hundred questions on the tip of my tongue but couldn’t decide which one to ask first.

  “Come in,” she said in her raspy voice.

  She led me through the long front room into a much smaller kitchen at the back. The kitchen had a view of the large back garden, and a man I guessed was her husband was at work in the garden. He was using a pair of crutches but that didn’t seem to hinder him. He was tackling weeds with an upright hoe.

  It was cool in the kitchen, and I
was glad to escape the heat.

  “Kettle’s just boiled,” Angie said. “Tea?”

  I nodded. My throat felt parched. “They arrested Steve?”

  “Yes, they did. It’s a terrible business.” Angie poured hot water into a brown teapot and then turned to face me.

  I’d guessed she was close to retirement age. Her hair was streaked with grey but she had unusually smooth, good skin. She was at least six inches shorter than me and looked up with watchful, brown eyes.

  “Is that why you couldn’t talk at the house? You were worried about Steve overhearing?”

  Angie cocked her head to one side. “I just feel it’s better to talk in private.”

  “You sounded very worried on the phone when you called me. You said I needed to come back.”

  Angie crossed the kitchen to the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk. “Well, of course. You were a close friend of Nicole’s. I thought you’d want to come back.”

  Was that all it was? I leaned my hip against the kitchen counter. The hum of the fridge was the only noise in the kitchen.

  “I saw the police cars as I left. There were officers in white suits. Do you know what they were looking for?”

  Angie said nothing as she carefully poured milk into a small jug and began to set the tea items on a tray.

  “I’m really worried about Sienna. Do you think the police believe harm has come to her?”

  You heard that sort of thing all the time on the news. The police dug up patios and found bodies buried in the garden. Had Sienna found out who killed her mother? Had Steve wanted to silence her? Had he killed her too?

  “I’ve no idea. They didn’t say much when they turned up.” Angie poured the tea and turned to me. “Would you like to sit down?”

  “I don’t mind.” I didn’t want a seat. I wanted answers.

  Angie carried the tea tray into the front room and set it down on a coffee table. She sat in an armchair next to the empty fireplace and I sat in the chair opposite.

  “Angie, there’s a good chance I’m going to sound crazy, but I was so sure there was something you wanted to tell me.”