In Plain Sight Page 3
Lisa and Kevin’s bedroom was painted dove-grey with dark red curtains and bedding. There was an assortment of cushions on the bed and two tall table lamps stood like sentries on low bedside cabinets. On the wall opposite the bed was a cot, the wooden spars painted in different pastel hues. The covers were folded back and a small toy giraffe was tucked into the corner. Along the wall opposite the window were mirrored wardrobes. Clare pushed gently on one of the doors and it slid back noiselessly to reveal neat rails and shelves of clothes and shoes.
‘We’ll leave these for now,’ she said. ‘Just go through bedside drawers, the dressing table – that sort of thing.’ She put a hand on the wardrobe door to close it then stopped. Something had caught her eye. She bent down and retrieved a small parcel of pink tissue paper which she unfolded carefully. A tiny gold heart on a chain. She held it out for Chris to see. ‘What do you make of this?’
‘Nice. Where was it?’
‘Tucked inside one of her shoes.’
‘Bit odd.’
‘Isn’t it? Especially as there’s a jewellery case on the dressing table.’
‘So why hide it?’
Clare folded the tissue paper up and replaced it in the shoe. ‘So Kevin doesn’t find it.’
‘Want to ask her about it?’
Clare considered. ‘Not just now. It’s probably nothing to do with Abi’s abduction and it might just add to their distress.’
‘Okay.’
They carried on working through the bedroom but found nothing that seemed significant. Clare rose from looking under the bed. ‘Come on. Let’s investigate the other rooms.’
The room next to the Mitchells’ bedroom was sparsely furnished. There were two single beds with pale blue duvets, a bedside table between them.
‘Spare room,’ Clare said, and Chris nodded his agreement.
The next door led to a smaller room, furnished only with an exercise bike and an elliptical trainer.
‘They like their fitness,’ Chris observed, closing the door behind them. ‘The best of stuff, too.’ He followed Clare towards a door at the end of the upstairs hall. A wooden carved hot-air balloon brightly painted with the name ABIGAIL hung on the outside of the door. Clare turned the handle and switched on the light. The room was a sea of pink and lilac. Fairy lights were draped along one wall with a baby changing unit below. The other walls were decorated with bright acrylic paintings of circus performers, and a matching mobile hung from the ceiling. A chest of drawers stood next to the changing unit and four tell-tale indentations in the carpet showed this was where the cot had stood before Abi’s arrival must have prompted the Mitchells to move it into their bedroom.
‘Right. The sooner we get started…’ Clare moved to the chest of drawers and began sifting through tiny vests, sleepsuits and cardigans while Chris investigated the changing unit.
It didn’t take long to complete the search.
‘Come on,’ Clare said. ‘There’s nothing here. Let’s see if Sara’s had any luck with the neighbours.’
As she moved to the door, she saw a bottle of digoxin on a small shelf and she was suddenly aware of how little time they had to find Abi.
* * *
The doctor was closing his case as Clare put her head round the door.
‘We’ll be back to see you again,’ she told the Mitchells. ‘Meantime, if you think of anything – anything at all – just let Wendy know.’
They emerged into the quiet street. The police car parked outside the Mitchells’ house had drawn a few neighbours to their windows but there was no sign of Sara. As they stood, taking in the surroundings, the doctor came out of the house. Clare approached him as he made for his car. ‘Realistically, Doctor, how long do we have to find the baby?’
The doctor’s expression was grave. ‘It could be as little as forty-eight hours,’ he said. ‘Longer if we’re lucky, but without digoxin in the correct dose she could suffer heart failure, slip into a coma and die. I suggest you throw everything at this, Inspector. And soon.’
Chapter 4
Ashley McCann lived in the ground-floor flat of a 1960s-built block, just off Albany Park near the East Sands Leisure Centre. Chris drove slowly along while Clare looked for house numbers. The nearby car park at the leisure centre was busy with swimmers arriving and leaving while small groups of students, some in their traditional red gowns, were walking to and from a block of flats. Beyond the leisure centre lay the North Sea and round the coast on an elevated site the Kinkell Braes caravan park.
‘Take a right here,’ Clare said suddenly, ‘then left.’
Chris crawled along until they were outside Ashley’s flat and he drew into the kerb to park.
‘She’s landed lucky with a flat here,’ Clare said, taking in the street as they walked up the path. ‘Nice outlook.’
‘Suppose.’
Clare rang the bell. When there was no response she knocked on the door and rattled the letterbox. ‘Check the back,’ she said to Chris, and he strode off round the side of the block.
He returned, shaking his head. ‘No sign of life. I reckon she’s out.’
‘Okay. Let’s try the neighbours. You take left, I’ll go right.’
Clare knocked on a fairly new glass-fronted door and, after a few minutes, a young lad of about fifteen appeared in boxers and a T-shirt, yawning widely. Clare showed him her badge and asked about Ashley.
The lad rubbed his eyes. ‘No idea. Don’t see her around much.’
‘Is anyone else at home?’
He shook his head. ‘Gone shopping.’
Clare asked when they would be back and he shrugged.
She saw Chris waiting and she thanked the lad for his time.
‘Any luck?’
‘Nope. No one at home.’
‘Or they’re not answering.’
‘Yeah, could be.’
‘Get on the radio,’ Clare said, clicking to unlock the car. ‘I want a check run on Ashley McCann. See if she has any pre-cons and post someone outside her flat.’ She put the key in the ignition. ‘I want to know the minute she gets back.’
* * *
The police station car park to the side of the low red-brick building was mercifully quiet when Clare and Chris drew in. But she knew if they didn’t find Abi within the next twenty-four hours, the car park would be overflowing, the station swollen by reinforcements from neighbouring stations, to say nothing of the inevitable press pack. The magnitude of the task facing her was not lost on Clare. A missing person was bad enough but a missing baby – and one with a heart defect – was something else altogether. She could only hope someone would spot the baby before the night was out.
‘Nothing from the road blocks,’ Jim said, as Clare and Chris entered the station. She thought how odd it was to see Jim behind the public enquiry desk, out of uniform. She should send him home, really. Home to his sick wife Mary. But at that moment, Clare knew she needed every officer she could lay her hands on. Experience told her if they didn’t find Abi within the first twenty-four hours, the chances of returning her to her parents safe and well would be greatly reduced.
‘They’re still checking,’ Jim went on, ‘but the baby’s probably well away by now.’
‘What about the dogs?’
Jim shook his head. ‘The search team’s still out on the golf course but it’s not looking hopeful. Been through the bins as well.’
‘Any luck with the burger van, Jim?’
‘Interviewed the couple who own it. They didn’t see anything.’
‘Okay, Jim. Thanks.’ Clare suddenly remembered what the Mitchells had said about a pizza delivery bike. ‘Jim – could you check if any pizza companies were at the West Sands on Sunday?’
‘Pizza? At the fun run?’
‘Yes. You didn’t see them?’
‘No. Just the burger van. But I can phone round if you want?’
‘If you could. It was probably just one of the drivers on his way to work. Stopped in to watch the start of the rac
e.’
‘I’ll check it anyway.’
Clare smiled at her sergeant. Nothing was ever too much trouble for Jim. ‘Just a couple more things, Jim – could you get me the press officer on the phone? I need to put something out urgently. And when you’ve done that, can you trace Kevin Mitchell’s dad? His mum died a few years ago. He says he doesn’t know where his dad is.’
‘Aye, no problem, Clare. What about the baby’s mum?’
‘Yes, her parents too, please. She was very definite she didn’t want her mum contacted and that makes me suspicious.’
‘Okay, Clare. Any pointers as to where they are?’
‘None. But Chris has a note of their names. So let’s check our own records first. If they’ve not come to our attention, go through the usual channels – voter’s role, phone book etc. Worst case, we can try the Registrar General in the morning but ideally we need to get onto it quicker than that.’
Jim noted this down then picked up the phone.
Clare turned to Chris. ‘Can you call Tech Support, please? Get that bit of spyware sent to Kevin and Lisa’s phones. Let them know it’s two iPhones – in case it matters. And warn Wendy when it’s being sent so she can make sure they install it properly.’
As Chris went to call Tech Support, Clare saw Jim signalling. She took the phone from him and began to explain the situation to the press officer. ‘The baby needs prescription medication – digoxin. It’s not available over the counter so it’s vital the abductor leaves the baby at a hospital where she can be cared for properly. The usual stuff about treating the abductor with compassion and so on.’
The phone call done, Clare sought out Jim again. ‘Any joy with the interviews?’
‘Nothing so far. The cops in the incident room are running names through the Police National Computer just now so we’ll soon know if any of them have pre-cons.’
‘Has anyone spoken to our eco-warrior? I’d like to see to him myself, as soon as possible. Make absolutely sure he’s not linked to Abi’s abduction.’
‘He’s come in, voluntarily. Wants to do whatever he can to help. Seems like a genuine enough guy.’
‘Yeah, they always do, Jim.’
Jim made no reply to this.
‘Where is he?’ Clare asked.
‘Interview room.’
‘Okay. And the camp? What’s the deal with that?’
‘I think Sara attended about a week ago. Spoke to them all. She said they seemed nice enough but determined not to shift.’
‘Who owns the land?’
‘It’s McIntosh Water now. They bought it from the farmer about six months ago. They have planning permission for a bottled water plant. From what I can gather, the protesters are an environmental group, opposed to the development of the land. Plus they’re not happy about the idea of more plastic bottles.’
Clare’s lips tightened. ‘Is that so?’
‘It’s a fair point,’ Jim said. ‘Plastic pollution is a huge problem now.’
‘Doesn’t give them the right to occupy private land without permission. What’s more, without their diversion and the confusion it caused, that baby might not have been taken. We need to be absolutely sure the two incidents aren’t connected.’ She nodded to Chris. ‘Come on. Let’s see what he has to say for himself.’
* * *
Nicholas Stewart was quite different from the protesters Clare had dealt with on marches and demonstrations. He was sixty at least and she had the impression, from the way he spoke, that he came from an academic background. He seemed to weigh her questions and gave his answers willingly, admitting his part in disrupting the fun run.
‘Sometimes you have to take action if the cause justifies it,’ he said. ‘But I am sorry that the runners were disappointed today.’
‘It’s a little more than that,’ Clare said, levelly, trying to hold on to her temper. ‘Quite apart from the funds this race would have raised for a most deserving charity, you created a diversion that facilitated the abduction of a baby. A baby which, if it does not receive the correct medication within the next two days, could die. So tell me, Mr Stewart, how the cause justifies that.’
He stared and seemed momentarily lost for words. He ran a hand through his hair then said, ‘But I had no idea. How could I have known? No one could have known.’
Clare returned his gaze. ‘No. That’s quite correct. You couldn’t have known. But it does mean it’s vital we find the baby without delay.’
‘Then ask me anything you wish, Inspector.’
Clare gave a curt nod then said, ‘Tell me about the protest.’
‘Of course. My wife and I planned it when we learned McIntosh Water were to sponsor the race.’
‘Who else knew?’
‘No one, until this morning. I told the others to be ready for something on Sunday morning, but that’s all. If news of the protest had leaked out, McIntosh would have had security guards at the race, so secrecy was vital. I told the others to wear their NEFEW T-shirts under their sports tops. We didn’t want to reveal who we were until the last minute.’
‘NEFEW?’
‘Ah, my apologies. North-East Fife Environment Watch.’
Clare wrote this down. ‘And how did they know where to come?’
‘We met at the aquarium, just round from the West Sands, about an hour before the race. I explained the plan and told them to make their way to the start line and to jog about as if they were runners. A few minutes before the race started, we pulled off the sports tops to show our T-shirts and, as the klaxon sounded, we lay down in the path of the runners.’
‘And no one else knew of your plans? Did your wife tell anyone?’
‘No. Like me, she knows the importance of keeping our plans secret until the last minute. I gather she’s given a statement to your colleagues. I can give you her mobile number if that would help.’
Clare waved the offer away and asked instead if he had seen anyone acting suspiciously. He spread his hands in response.
‘I wish I could say I had, Inspector. But I was entirely focused on making the protest as effective as possible.’
‘How well do you know the other protesters?’ Chris asked.
Nicholas Stewart considered this. ‘Some, I’ve known for most of my life. Others I met through work or friends of friends.’
‘Do any of them strike you as different?’ Chris continued.
‘In what way?’
‘Maybe not as committed as the others; or too committed.’
He sat back in his seat, pressing his hands together as he considered this. And then he said, ‘You are thinking, Sergeant, that one of our group may be connected to the abduction?’
‘Probably not,’ Chris conceded. ‘But we do need to consider all possibilities.’
‘I understand. But I fear I can’t help. There is no one who particularly stands out, as you suggest.’
This was getting them nowhere. Clare scraped her chair back. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Stewart. We’ll be in touch if there’s anything further.’
He took the cue and rose from his seat. ‘I am truly sorry about the baby and I hope you find her soon. My heart goes out to the parents.’
Clare forced a smile. ‘Thank you, Mr Stewart. We appreciate your co-operation.’
He stood, pulling on his jacket, and seemed keen to linger. Clare started for the door but, when he spoke again, she paused.
‘May I ask, Inspector, if you are the officer who so bravely tackled the gunman over at Mortaine Castle a few months back?’
Clare was momentarily disarmed. Then she gave a brief nod and moved to the door, reaching for the handle.
He followed her, saying, ‘Then I must commend you for your bravery. I think also, if what I read in the newspaper is correct, that you must know my good friend, Geoffrey Dark? He’s a sculpture expert. I gather he assisted you in identifying Mortaine Castle from photographs of the interior?’
Clare stopped in her tracks again. ‘You know Mr Dark?’
‘We were.’ She smiled again. ‘Thank you for your time, Mr Stewart. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.’
* * *
Jim motioned to Clare as she left the room. ‘Press Office been on the phone. They want you to do a TV interview and they’re sending an outside broadcast crew over to the West Sands now.’
Clare groaned inwardly. She loathed being on camera. But it had to be done. They needed maximum publicity if they were to have any chance of finding Abi. ‘Okay, Jim. I’ll call them now.’
The press officer talked Clare through her script before she set off for the beach. She parked just outside the search area and spoke to a uniformed cop manning the cordon. ‘TV crew?’
‘Down on the beach, boss,’ he said, indicating the nearest footpath across the dunes.
Clare made her way over the wooden boards and down onto the soft sand. The tide had turned and was creeping up the beach now. The wind, which had been a welcome breeze earlier in the day, had become blustery and cold. She saw the TV crew and made her way across the beach towards them. As the wind whipped round her face, Clare searched in her pocket for a hair-tie which she used to scrape her hair back into a ponytail. She introduced herself to the crew. They were just four – a reporter, cameraman and a couple of technicians. She discussed what she wanted to say with the reporter and, after a few tests runs, the recording began. She described the sleepsuit Abi had been wearing that morning, holding up a print of the photo Kevin had given her to illustrate this. She went on to mention Abi’s solitary front tooth, her eyes and the birthmark on her neck. And then the reporter prompted Clare about Abi’s medical condition.
Clare looked directly at the camera. ‘Whoever took Abi is probably a very caring person. If you are that person I want to appeal to you now to take her to the nearest hospital and leave her with staff. You don’t need to say anything or tell the staff who you are. Abi has a congenital heart defect and needs medicine called digoxin twice a day. You cannot buy this medicine over the counter. It is only available on prescription. Abi may look healthy enough just now but, without this medicine, her condition will deteriorate quickly. Please, whoever you are, return Abi to us so we can make sure she gets the medication she needs.’