The Lost Read online

  A member of airport security was guarding a door marked Border Force. Frankie asked Parker to hang back a moment, greeting the guard with a handshake. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure that her charge hadn’t crept forward. Daniel’s stepfather was straining to hear what was being said.

  Let him.

  There were questions that remained unanswered. If he was involved in the boy’s disappearance, in any way, Frankie would cut him no slack. She turned to face the guard. ‘How was the boy’s mother when Stone met her?’

  ‘Unhappy about being intercepted,’ he said. ‘Demanding an explanation—’

  ‘And who can blame her? The last thing you want when you fly in at this time of night is a hairy-arsed polis preventing you from going home to your bed.’ It had been several hours since Alex Parker had returned her hire car to Palma airport. Frankie had established that before they left the station. ‘Hold your position. We don’t want any interruptions. When we leave, stand down.’

  The guard nodded his understanding.

  When Frankie entered the room, Stone was on his feet, Alex Parker sitting down, head in hands, elbows on knees. She looked up, seizing on her husband’s arrival in the room, oblivious to anyone accompanying him. She sprang to her feet, practically flung herself into his arms and then stepped away.

  ‘Tim! What the hell’s going on?’

  Oh fuck, Frankie thought. Stone hadn’t told her.

  And then before she could speak, Alex’s attention flew past everyone to the door. She staggered backwards as if she’d been struck, her voice reduced to a whisper. ‘Where’s Daniel?’

  4

  Aided by a blue flashing light, designed to get them home as quickly as possible, the unmarked police car left the airport northbound. As the countryside flashed by, Tim Parker couldn’t help but notice that he was under surveillance. From time to time, DS Oliver’s eyes met his through the rear-view mirror. While he didn’t know her well enough to make a judgement, he could swear there had been a shift in her attitude towards him. Initially sympathetic to his plight, she now appeared to be viewing him with suspicion.

  Tim understood that – Dan had been in his care.

  Alex was rigid on the seat next to him, eyes front, refusing to hold his hand. They hadn’t spoken since they left the interview room. As always, she was keeping up appearances, trying to give the impression that she was coping when she was barely hanging on. It’s what she did when she was sad, angry or troubled. Tim suspected she was all three.

  He exhaled, heart pounding in his chest. He’d seen Alex like this twice before. She’d kept her emotions in check, fury building like steam in a pressure-cooker seeking release, finally exploding with devastating consequences. It wasn’t pretty either time.

  Tim put a hand on hers. She pulled away. He was desperate to embrace her, tell her how sorry he was and beg forgiveness, to comfort her while they waited for an update, but there was no news to share, nor any clue as to what might have prompted Dan’s disappearance. It would be cruel to give her false hope of a satisfactory resolution. If the worst came to the worst . . . Tim couldn’t think about that now. Neither could he ignore it. Their precarious relationship would surely collapse. It would be the end of everything.

  Close the door on your way out, pal.

  His wife hadn’t meant what she’d said at the airport. She was only sounding off, venting her anger. She couldn’t bear to think of Daniel out there in the cold, let alone consider how he got there or what may have befallen him. Her negative reaction was nothing less than Tim deserved. She was projecting her rage on to the one closest to her, a common reaction when faced with such a horrendous state of affairs. Professionally or privately, attack had always been her best form of defence – she’d hardly blame herself, would she?

  Tim threw a glance in her direction. On the surface, she was more composed than when DS Oliver broke the news. The pretence was killing him. Beneath that hard exterior, his wife was in bits, as he was. So why didn’t she let it out like any normal woman? Why did she make him feel so fucking inferior? Tim needed a fix – and so did she by the look of her. When they got home, he’d call Jeremy Owen, a GP he played golf with, and ask him to come over. It was against the rules to administer drugs randomly but Tim didn’t give a shit. After losing their baby, Alex had fallen ill and needed medication to calm her down. Benzodiazepines had helped her then. Maybe they would now.

  DS Oliver’s eyes were on him again.

  Thankfully she couldn’t read his mind. It was bad enough that Daniel had gone missing on his watch. Any negativity toward his wife would heap even more suspicion on him, something he didn’t need right now. Stone and Oliver were smart, which meant Tim had to be careful or they’d notice he was a user and the cuffs would be out. He’d been around coppers long enough to know how their minds worked.

  The tone of an incoming text message filled the car.

  Alex went for her bag, checked her mobile’s display. Whatever it was, it didn’t move her. Her gaze returned to a front windscreen streaked with rain, the road slick and shiny in the vehicle’s headlights. Tim eyed the phone held loosely in her hand, wondering who would text at this late hour. He didn’t bother to enquire. It was probably Kat. The woman never slept.

  If the message wasn’t from or about Dan, it was of no consequence.

  Tim looked out the side window, the weight of the world on his shoulders. If anything had happened to Dan, his marriage would be over. His life would be over. Alex had practically bankrolled his business and he was in no position to pay her off. He stood to lose everything. They passed through Scots Gap from where they would turn off for the home his wife had inherited from her parents. When the car pulled up at the electronic gated entrance, there were several police vehicles on the driveway, one with a blue light flashing. She lost it then, shrugging off his attempt to comfort her as she emerged from the car.

  Frankie Oliver was in awe of the eighteenth-century, three-storey Grade II listed Georgian country house. Surrounded by extensive grounds, it boasted a swimming pool, three-car garage and stable block. She pulled up sharply as she walked through the front door. The interior of the house was equally magnificent, designed to impress visitors, imaginatively renovated and incredibly special. The wow factor didn’t come close to describing it. The spacious entrance hallway was festooned with balloons of all shapes and sizes. Strung across the width of the room, a homemade Welcome Home Mummy sign seemed to poke fun at everyone. Frankie wanted to rip it down but the damage was done.

  Alex was tormented; the au pair, Justine Segal, even worse.

  Stone cut her off at the pass. She’d be questioned in due course, though not in the hearing of her employers. Parker gave Justine a nod, an unspoken message that they would chat later.

  What was that about?

  Frankie watched them carefully. Justine was a vital witness, as distressed as Daniel’s mother by the presence of the search team. The use of a cadaver dog seemed to rile Tim Parker. He froze as the animal was brought in and went to work, voicing his objections firmly.

  ‘You’re wasting your time,’ he said. ‘Dan’s not here.’

  ‘It’s basic procedure,’ Stone said. ‘There’s no need to be alarmed.’

  ‘How can I not be alarmed? For fuck’s sake, I’ve searched the house already. I was frantic. It’s the first thing I did.’

  The DI didn’t answer.

  Frankie did it for him. ‘Then it shouldn’t take long to confirm your findings. We did ask your permission—’

  ‘Yeah, for a fucking search team!’

  ‘Which includes the use of the Dog Section. Yours is a big house, sir. The sooner they get started the better.’ She nodded that the handler should continue. He headed for the open well staircase, his dog’s paws tapping across the polished oak flooring as they moved towards it. Frankie turned back to face Tim Parker. ‘We appreciate
how distressing this is for both of you, but we’re going to need your help and cooperation.’

  ‘Leave Alex out of this,’ Tim Parker said. ‘Can’t you people see that my wife is exhausted? I won’t allow it—’

  ‘I’m sure Alex can answer for herself, sir.’ The contempt on Frankie’s face matched that of Parker’s wife.

  Stone intervened, inviting everyone to move into the drawing room and sit down.

  Frankie had overstepped the mark and knew it. She glanced at her boss. His attention was elsewhere. She held her bottle, eyes drifting to Tim Parker. ‘As Daniel’s mother, Alex may have information to give that you’re not aware of, sir. DI Stone is right, it’s basic procedure. We’re going to need a comprehensive list of Daniel’s friends and teammates before we leave.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Parker climbed down.

  Frankie could tell he wasn’t feeling the love and didn’t want to put her back up. Since that first encounter at the station, whatever he said made him sound inept.

  What’s more, he knew it.

  Alex was welling up, trying hard not show it. Every mention of Dan’s name produced the same reaction. She may not be hysterical but she was fragile. Angry too; she looked as though, if her husband so much as laid a hand on her, she’d break. Frankie couldn’t imagine what she was going through. Whatever her husband’s feelings for his stepson, Alex had given birth to Daniel – it stood to reason that mother and son shared a bond that Parker could never hope to achieve.

  Asking Alex to provide a contact list was pointless. Tim went to his study to do it himself. While there, he called Jeremy, expecting a knockback. Instead, he got sympathy. One less battle to fight, or so he thought. When he returned to the living room, Alex had other ideas. Oliver was keeping a close eye on her. His wife was exactly where he’d left her with her coat on. She was clutching a stiff drink.

  ‘You don’t need that.’ He pointed at the tumbler in her hand.

  Alex looked like she might throw it at him.

  ‘You’re right,’ she said softly. ‘What I need is my son.’

  ‘They’ll find him, Alex.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘I called Jeremy.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘He’s a GP—’

  ‘I know what he is! That’s not what I asked.’

  ‘He’ll give you something to calm you down.’

  She raised her glass. ‘I don’t need his drugs.’

  ‘Too late, I’ve made arrangements—’

  ‘Well, you’d better unmake them.’

  ‘I’m trying to help.’

  ‘I won’t take them. They make me feel like a zombie.’

  ‘It’s a temporary measure, like last time—’

  ‘Don’t you dare bring that up!’ Alex gave him hard eyes. ‘Maybe it’s you who needs help.’ Her expression was clear: How you can live with yourself?

  ‘I don’t know what to say—’

  ‘There’s nothing you can say. You promised to keep Daniel safe . . . you failed . . .’ She let the sentence trail off.

  Under Frankie’s watchful gaze Tim wandered away, pulling his mobile from his pocket. ‘Jeremy, it’s me. Sorry for the inconvenience. There’s no need for you to call. Yes, yes, she’s fine . . . well, no she’s not, but she won’t take any medication. No, please don’t. Yes, I’ll call her GP in the morning if she changes her mind. Thank you . . . yes, I’m sure he’ll turn up.’

  ‘Are the police with you?’

  Tim closed his study door. ‘“With you” might be stretching it. They’re making the right noises. I wonder if they’re actively looking for Dan outside of our home. They kept me hanging around for hours at the station. Before we left to pick up Alex, they asked my permission to search the house.’

  ‘What? That’s insane.’

  ‘They made it clear that they would drag a magistrate out of bed to obtain a warrant if I didn’t give it.’

  ‘No way!’ He paused. ‘It’s probably routine. Surely they can’t . . .’ He rephrased: ‘Can’t they leave it till morning?’

  ‘Apparently not,’ Tim said. ‘The search team were here when we arrived home. I overheard the officer in charge give an order to search every inch of the house, including cellar and loft. This is serious shit, Jeremy. I appear to be under suspicion.’

  5

  ‘What the hell happened back there?’ Frankie whispered under her breath, one eye on the grief-stricken parents, the other on Stone – dependable, honest . . . floundering. The DI wiped his face with his hand, acting as if she hadn’t spoken. She wasn’t having that. ‘Talk to me, David. You froze – you know you did – and I want to know why.’

  Stone looked away, eyes on Alex Parker: classy, composed, difficult to read. Frankie’s father would call her posh. He’d probably question her relatively calm reaction to the news of her son’s disappearance. Frankie didn’t see it that way. She was a strong female personality. Every individual’s response to crisis or tragedy was different, much of it reflected in their upbringing. Besides, the full impact of Daniel’s disappearance hadn’t yet hit home.

  It would . . . in time.

  Stone couldn’t take his eyes off the woman.

  Frankie’s stomach took a dive as a thought forced its way into her head, such a terrible idea, she didn’t want to give it houseroom. The more she studied her boss, the stronger the notion became. She wanted, needed, to understand why he hadn’t told Daniel’s mother that her son was missing, why he’d left that task to her.

  ‘Fuck! Tell me you don’t know her.’

  ‘What do you take me for?’ It was neither admission nor denial.

  Stone had shown no hesitation. That was good . . . wasn’t it? Frankie took a deep breath, trying to ignore the unfathomable sadness in his eyes. She had no clue what had brought it on – only that it was there.

  ‘What then?’ she said. ‘David, be straight with me. You owe me an explanation—’

  ‘I owe you nothing.’ He loosened his tie. ‘Don’t you have work to do?’

  His attention strayed again.

  Frankie followed his gaze across the impressive drawing room, so stylish it took her breath away. The dream space contained alcove shelving, media units, contemporary art and exquisite wallpaper designs, expertly put together with relaxation in mind. Sumptuous furniture was complemented by rugs and cushions, subtle lighting. The flat-screen TV was the biggest she’d ever come across outside of a public cinema.

  Stone was seeing none of it.

  His focus was Alex Parker, uncommunicative despite her husband’s efforts to engage her in conversation. It occurred to Frankie that the woman had very little tan considering she’d spent the last week in Majorca. Her hair was chestnut brown, tied in double French braids; eyes like pools of icy water. She looked dreadful – justifiable, given Daniel’s disappearance – though not enough to hide her beauty. She was a little older than Stone but not so you’d notice. They both looked like they could do with a stiff drink.

  Frankie began to panic. Did Stone and Alex Parker have history that her husband wasn’t aware of? Was that why the DI had been reluctant to investigate Daniel’s disappearance? As far as Frankie was aware, he’d not seen the job when it came in. Conceivably he might have checked the force-wide incident log without her knowledge and recognised the name and address. No, what was she thinking? That scenario didn’t make any sense. If that had been the case, he’d have said so when she was trying to persuade him to run with the enquiry. He’d hardly rock up there as if nothing had happened and hope to get away with it. Unless he was so besotted with Alex that he saw himself as a hero, riding to the rescue. Except that didn’t work either. Instead of leaving it to Frankie, he’d have delivered the bad news himself – and tried to comfort the woman, surely? – then removed himself from the investigation.

 
Not knowing what to believe, she turned away.

  The search team coordinator gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head as he approached. He’d lucked out. Nothing had been found. Frankie looked at Stone. After the debacle inside the airport terminal, he’d thrown her the keys and walked Alex to the police car without a word, leaving Frankie to act as escort to the husband. Somehow, her boss had managed to compose himself on the journey, enough to offer words of reassurance to the couple. The scenarios Frankie had imagined were so bizarre that she began to doubt herself. Maybe she’d seen something that wasn’t there. Or perhaps Stone was testing her, giving her a chance to prove herself? They’d yet to move beyond that first stage, getting to know one another, falling in step. She’d once been paired with a detective who, whenever there was bad news to deliver, insisted she take the lead. At no other time was she handed the privilege. Was that what this was about? She could do the shit jobs and Stone could take the credit . . .

  Think again, mister.

  Frankie had never seen herself as the harbinger of doom and was disillusioned to think that he might expect that of her. She’d do her bit, of course – on equal terms. From the outset, he’d insisted that they would be partners despite the variance in rank. That’s the way it had always been with her. The way it would continue to be, else she’d ship out.

  Seeing her suspicion, Stone dropped his gaze.

  He looked at his mobile, an avoidance tactic, leaving her to wrestle with his lack of action at the airport and since. All coppers had their own way of operating – Frankie had been in the job long enough to have spotted idiosyncrasies in colleagues – still, this was off the scale. Stone hadn’t merely taken his foot off the pedal, he’d slammed their relationship into reverse, allowing her to take over their first case of any note since he’d arrived in the north. A professional partnership was all well and good but, as the senior rank, it was his responsibility to show the way.