around the room, disappointed that he’d allowed Alex’s imagination to let him believe that Carol-Anne was hiding somewhere in the property. To be safe he moved out to the landing, pulled down the loft ladder and, using the torch on his phone, he scoured the floor space, searching behind dusty boxes of Christmas decorations and old photograph albums. He found nothing more than silence and cobwebs.
Closing the hatch he headed back downstairs, his heart heavy at the prospect of Alex’s previous psychological issues returning en masse. Finding Isla alone in the kitchen, he nodded when she offered to put the kettle on.
‘Trent says you’re one of the best FLOs she’s worked with,’ he said to finally break the silence.
‘That’s very kind of her. She’s one of the better SIOs I’ve come across,’ Isla smiled back. ‘You couldn’t have asked for someone better to be in charge of your case.’
‘Trent said you were dialling into the morning brief; anything to share with us?’
‘It was a standard primary briefing, leads they’re going to pursue and that kind of thing. She did also say she wants your permission to appeal to the public.’
‘What did Alex say?’
‘She gave the go-ahead.’
‘Did you tell her to delete her Facebook account?’
‘I did. Standard procedure in these circumstances. You should do the same.’
He grunted. ‘I don’t have time for all that sort of thing. My digital footprint is as clean as they come.’
Isla looked as though she wanted to say something else and was holding back.
‘Spit it out, whatever it is,’ he finally said.
Closing the door, she leaned in closer, her voice barely more than a whisper. ‘You’re not going to be trouble for me, are you?’
His cheeks reddened at the implication.
‘DI Trent warned me that you aren’t likely to sit quietly and wait for my updates, and she has asked me to remind you that you are not authorized to be directly involved with this investigation. Any contact with her or the rest of your team is to be social only, and kept to a minimum. In this morning’s brief she warned everyone not to engage with you on matters pertaining to the investigation.’ She sighed. ‘Listen, I know better than anyone how hard it is to leave others to the job, but that’s precisely what you need to do. Is that clear?’
Ray didn’t answer, instead heading out of the room and stepping outside before he said something he knew he would regret.
Alex was by the back door, staring out at the patio and small muddy lawn beyond it. ‘He thinks I’m losing my mind.’
Isla was standing in the doorway, holding a tray with two mugs. ‘It may seem like that, but this can’t be easy for him either. No matter how many families I support I find each is different, and one partner’s reaction is rarely the same as the other’s. Both of you are terrified about what might have happened to Carol-Anne and feel helpless to prevent the unfolding drama. How you deal with those elements is bound to be different. In these situations it’s always best to be extra patient with each other; it serves nobody well to allow your frustration to boil over.’
Isla raised a tablet from the tray and passed it to Alex. ‘This is the statement DI Trent’s team have prepared. She needs you to review it and give the green light.’
Alex read the first paragraph three times, before rubbing her eyes. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled, ‘I’m reading the words but they just aren’t going in.’
Isla lowered the tray to the table. ‘Why don’t I leave you to read it alone for a few minutes? Give you some space. If you have any questions, I’ll do my best to answer them when I return.’
Resting the tablet on her lap, Alex sat on the sofa and began to read the first paragraph again. It seemed fairly straightforward, explaining that Carol-Anne was a two-year-old who was snatched from a car park around 3 p.m., and that they were looking for witnesses who may have seen something.
It felt like she was reading about some other family’s misfortune, even though each word was like another nail in her own coffin.
The sound of the front door closing was followed by the sound of Ray’s footsteps thundering up the stairs. She hated the tension that had been hanging in the air between them these last few months, even before the shock of yesterday.
They hadn’t been intimate since they’d learned of the miscarriage, apart from that one drunken fumble in the dark on his birthday. At first she’d thought he was being patient and understanding, allowing her body to recover; however, on the two subsequent occasions she’d tried to instigate foreplay, he’d made up excuses for not wanting to. He was tired, or had an early alarm call and just needed to sleep. There was only so much rejection she was able to handle.
There were other signs, too, like growing the goatee beard. He’d always kept his face clean-shaven, and then all of a sudden he’d bought a new trimmer and just started growing it. And it wasn’t until she asked why he suddenly had a moustache that he admitted what he was doing, like it was none of her business. And then he’d started playing squash or going to the gym to swim a couple of times a week. In itself it wouldn’t have been a problem, as it was important for them to have sociable interests outside of the marriage, but who splashes on cologne to go and hit a ball against a wall?
Even so, she had no evidence that he was seeing anyone else. He kept his phone on him at all times in case the office needed to call him in urgently, and if she’d asked to see it he would know she was on to him and he would most likely deny it. He didn’t have many female friends that she knew about – her gut told her the woman was probably somebody he worked with. Maybe that DI Trent, or someone else in his team. He didn’t tend to talk to Alex about his job, claiming she wouldn’t want to know about half the things he saw on a daily basis.
She still loved him though, and deep down she knew she always would even if he had betrayed their marriage vows, because without him she never would have had Carol-Anne. The now familiar sting of tears threatened to break free, and she took a couple of breaths and looked away from the screen until they cleared.
‘How are you getting on?’ Isla asked, coming in to the room.
Alex still couldn’t say for certain whether she approved of the statement, and handed the tablet back. ‘It’s fine,’ she said. After all, they were the professionals who were used to preparing such formal statements. ‘When will it be on the news?’
‘Tonight, I believe. I’ll check with DI Trent when I let her know you’ve given your consent.’ She locked the tablet and was about to leave when she remembered something else. ‘Have you suspended your social media accounts? As I said earlier, it’s best if you put a temporary freeze on them. People can be quite cruel.’
Alex pulled out her phone and nodded. ‘I’ll do it now.’ She’d barely had the app open for a minute when she suddenly gasped, and felt her eyes water instantly. In her hands the photograph of the ultrasound she’d uploaded three years earlier stared back at her as a memory, the app asking if she wished to re-share the post.
The blur of light and dark, blobs that clearly represented her baby’s head, body, arms and legs, made it look almost as though Carol-Anne had been waving at them. She’d never felt as excited as she had the day she’d seen the images on the screen of the ultrasound machine. Ray had been speechless, and in that moment everything had felt so perfect and life-affirming. It was the start of their family life together.
The longing and ache in her heart now felt so intense. What she would give to go back to that day of the ultrasound and just warn herself never to take her daughter or husband for granted, to never allow them out of her