Page 24 of Stolen Ones
‘Until Karen Matthews came along and did the unthinkable with her own daughter, we weren’t allowed to suspect family members to that degree.’
‘But surely if that was the case Melody would have been miraculously found not long after.’
He shrugged, and his face seemed to crumple.
‘I still look for her, you know. Her little face is never far from my mind. Sometimes I think I see her in a shop, or in a playground. In some part of my mind she’s still that little girl that went missing twenty-five years ago, but the good sense I’ve got left knows that she’s been dead for years.’
‘You think something went wrong and she died at the hands of her family?’
He looked at her for a full minute before opening his mouth again.
‘Or maybe they realised she was more valuable to them dead.’
Thirteen
Kim had already worked out that by taking the back roads and with a good wind, she could take a quick detour and still get to Wombourne to take Penn off Harte watch at around eleven.
Kates Hill was an area that had reportedly been the scene of chaos in the 1600s when parliamentarians used it as their base in the civil war against King Charles I. Many of the roads were named in honour of parliamentary figures, and it was on Cromwell Street that she was parking now.
‘Okay, boy, be good,’ she said to Barney as she got out the car. She’d make sure he got some good exercise and a few dog treats once they got to Harte’s house.
She took a quick look around as she walked up the path. The area had not been developed residentially until the 1830s when large numbers of houses were built to accommodate people moving to the Black Country to work in the ever-growing number of factories and coal pits.
The door to Claire Lennard’s house was opened by Bernadette Jackson, a family liaison officer Kim had dealt with in the past. The woman was mid-thirties with a daughter of her own not much older than Grace. She was efficient, intuitive and empathetic. Perfect fit for this family.
‘How is she?’ Kim asked in the hallway.
‘Tired but won’t allow herself to sleep. I’ve not had to talk her away from the door for the last half an hour, so I’m hoping she’ll get some rest soon. She’s had a few calls but cuts them off quickly in case anyone needs to reach her, and by anyone, I mean you.’
Kim understood that Claire’s natural reaction would be to go out and search on foot for her child, walk the streets, knock on doors, anything to feel as though she was doing something.
‘Any visitors?’
Bernadette shook her head. ‘A few have offered but she’s refused.’
Kim’s toe nudged a duffel bag in the hallway. ‘You staying over?’
‘Oh yeah and happy to do so. It’s a decent sofa and my angelic twelve-year-old is currently hovering between sweet child and teenage spawn of Satan. It changes by the hour and could go either way, so her dad can deal with her for a bit.’
Kim smiled. She felt reassured that Bernadette would be around.
‘She’s in the lounge. I’ll make tea that no one will drink.’
‘Actually, black coffee would be great,’ Kim said. It was going to be a long night.
She stepped into the lounge, and Claire Lennard’s face was a mixture of hope and dread.
Kim shook her head. ‘No news yet,’ she said, taking a seat on the sofa. ‘I just wanted to check in with you. We didn’t get much chance to talk earlier.’
Her explanation for the visit was partly true. She did want to reassure Claire that everything possible was being done, but she also wanted to suss out Grace’s home and family life. Gum’s words had reminded her that the family had to be under suspicion. She knew that Bernadette would be attuned to anything out of the ordinary with either Claire or other family members, but she’d wanted to take a look for herself.
She’d sensed nothing untoward at the day centre from Claire whose nurse’s uniform had been replaced with casual trousers and a V-neck T-shirt. An untouched sandwich with curled-up corners sat on the coffee table.
‘It’s all over the news. Her face is everywhere. That’s good, isn’t it?’ she asked hopefully.
‘Absolutely. The more people that see her photo the better. Our liaison team will be giving regular updates to the press to keep Grace’s face on everyone’s mind.’ She paused. ‘Tell me about her,’ she said, glancing round the room. Photos of all stages of Grace’s life covered the walls.
Claire’s eyes lit up. ‘She’s a joy. She’s an exceptional little girl, and of course I’m going to say that, aren’t I, but she really is. She’s fearless and determined, studious but fun. She loves to play Twister but also loves to lie on her bed reading. She’s a typical eight-year-old girl who hasn’t yet discovered the joy of electronic gadgets, although I’m sure that’s just moments away.’
