You know what Zoe’s like, she’s a free spirit,’ I said, trying to soothe him, but I recognised I was starting to slur my words and I stopped abruptly. ‘This isn’t the first time she’s not come home straight away. Remember back in May when she didn’t come home for twenty-four hours and she told us she was with Keira but Keira hadn’t known anything about it? I reckon this is the same. We’ll just need to talk to her when she gets back, tell her it’s not on.’
‘The time in May, at least she was in contact with me and told me she was okay. She’s just gone silent and that’s not like Zoe at all.’
I had to admit that Zoe had told us not to worry and that she had something important to do. We never did find out what it was but she came home safe and sound, and that was all that mattered. Stephen, to this day, swore she had changed while she had been away, but I wasn’t convinced. To me, she was the same daughter who had clearly been testing us for whatever reason, for twenty-four hours. In fact, it occurred to me that perhaps Zoe was staying away on purpose now. Maybe she wanted our attention.
‘Have you been drinking?’ Stephen asked, breaking into my thoughts.
‘No,’ I said.
‘It’s nine a.m, for fuck’s sake, Freya.’
‘I haven’t,’ I said, frustration mounting inside. The pills were making me feel woozy.
‘Phone the police. I’m on my way home. I’m only in Oxford anyway.’
My mind was whirring with images of Zoe: the last time I’d seen her, she hadn’t been smiling. If I was honest with myself, she had looked preoccupied, maybe unhappy. I had got angry with her; thought she was just being a hormonal teenager. I remembered my final words to her as I went to bed on Thursday night:
‘Zo, life does not revolve around you.’
Life does not revolve around you…
I choked back a sob as an overwhelming sense of failure swept through me and I tried to think straight, my mind whirring with guilt.
‘You know, she’s probably just testing us?’ I said after a moment or two of silence. I delivered it as more of a question and realised I wanted Stephen to confirm that was exactly what was happening and it was all going to be fine.
‘No, I don’t think so. I have a bad feeling.’ I could hear him zipping up a bag. ‘I’m coming home now.’
He was right. I knew it; I just wanted him to tell me it would be fine. But my body was strung out: ready to snap. It was the fluttering in my stomach that told me Zoe was in trouble. Stephen denied my ever having a maternal instinct but he was wrong: I could feel it now, Zoe needed me. Maybe she had needed me last night. That thought struck my heart with force and I whimpered, my hand over my mouth, as I realised how I hadn’t been at home, I hadn’t been where I should have been all along.
Stephen cut the call.
I rushed to the sink and wretched, my mind buzzing with panic. I turned my head, my eyes flitting towards the front door, waiting for Zoe to walk in, waiting for my daughter to come home safely.
Stephen walked through the door just over an hour later, having looked around the village and surrounding area first. He had told me to stay at home and phone around her friends and teachers. I hadn’t argued: I was unable to think straight and, for once, I needed Stephen to guide me, to tell me what to do.
‘Where is she, Stephen? Where is she?’ I paced the room, my voice strung out like an elastic band. I looked at the clock, counting the minutes since I had put the phone down to the police. ‘Why would she send a text saying she’s staying over with Keira and then…’ My voice cracked, the cancerous lie threatening to show on my face. ‘And then… not turn up?’ My hand rushed to my mouth and let out a long, drawn-out cry. ‘Why didn’t I check with Angela if she was there? Why didn’t I?’ I stopped and stared at Stephen, hoping he hadn’t spotted my lie. ‘Why didn’t you talk to her? Why didn’t you text her? You’re always in contact with Zoe.’
‘I don’t know,’ he replied, sorrow etched across his features. ‘I thought you had. Actually…’ He gave a shake to his head. ‘I didn’t think that. It just never occurred to me that this would happen.’ He pushed his hand through his hair. ‘It’s Chilcote, you know?’
I stared at him, unspeaking, guilt twisting at my heart. For every moment I had cried when she was a baby, I felt the leaden weight of it in times like this. Right now, I wanted to find her, bring her home and hold her tight. Never let her go. Never let her out of my sight ever again. I was filled with self-loathing at my inability to open up to Zoe, to tell her I loved her, but every time I went to say it, something held me back. The words were there – the power of my love for my daughter was unreal – but I couldn’t speak the words. Now, I thought of my own parents: they never once told me they loved me. Instead, I would watch my father lash out once again at my mother. It became the norm and now, I realised, my heart sinking, I was doing the same to my own daughter.
‘Our daughter’s missing. We should have been there for her.’ I started to circle the kitchen again. ‘You tried the village close? The shop?’
He nodded.
‘Where else might she be? That record store in town?’
‘At the end of the day, she could be anywhere. But she’s never ignored my texts before.’ He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. I noticed how tired he looked, like a man who hadn’t slept. ‘She spent the night somewhere. A whole night somewhere,’ he said, his voice tinged with despair. ‘She won’t be at the record store.’
‘How can you be so certain?’ I raised a brow.
A heavy silence sat between us before he said, ‘We just need the police to arrive.’
‘She has to be somewhere. Think, Stephen. Think.’ I paused. ‘She might have run away, like I said.’
‘But why?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted.
Stephen eyed me. ‘For no good reason? If a child ever runs away, I’d say that they’re trying to tell you they’re not happy about something.’
‘Well, you’re not happy living with me.’
‘And vice versa.’
‘Well, I don’t just run away, do I?’ I felt the familiar knotting in my stomach as I said the words. I wanted to take them back.
‘No, but we are not a vulnerable sixteen-year-old girl.’ His jaw tightened momentarily.
I remained silent, my heart beating wildly despite my sudden stillness.
‘Freya. Sit down.’ Stephen shifted in his chair and placed his hand firmly on the seat of the one next to it. ‘The police will be here soon. We’ll speak to them. You and I both know that this is not normal for Zoe, that she wouldn’t leave on a whim.’ His face hardened with worry.
I roughly brushed away the tears wetting my already tear-stained face. I felt sick, my stomach churning with a strange mixture of self-reproach and hate for the man in front of me who would never, could never, understand.
The doorbell rang and I rushed from the kitchen to the front door, pulling it wide open.
A broad-shouldered man, with an angular face, peppered grey hair and wearing a charcoal suit and white shirt, stood on the doorstep. ‘Dr Hall? DI Simon Carter, Senior Investigative Officer.’ He offered his hand.
I took it briefly and noticed how dry it felt next to my clammy one, and ushered him inside. ‘Come in.’ I led him through to the living room. ‘She’s been missing for hours, Detective,’ I said, unprompted. ‘At least, her best friend hasn’t seen her since Thursday and