that you raised it with us, because it could have been Laurel.’
‘It was their daughter,’ Dominic says wearily in a husky voice, his head resting in his hands. ‘It was their own little girl. She takes after her mother – blonder than you, Anna, she was. Up close she looked nothing like Laurel.’
‘The drag marks were caused by them,’ DS Wright tells us, ‘apparently the girl sneaked out through the cut fence to watch the fireworks. When they found her, she didn’t want to leave. Had a paddy by all accounts, and they ended up dragging her back to the caravans. They only arrived yesterday evening, a little before the bonfire started. Officers had already spoken to them late last night and told them to move on today.’ Her face twists in something like disapproval.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper again, ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘There’s nothing you can say.’ Fran has appeared back in the doorway, faint smudges of mascara beneath her eyes revealing she has shed yet more tears. ‘It was a mistake, Anna. You weren’t to know that it wasn’t her. Us sitting here crying isn’t going to help get Laurel back, is it? DS Wright – is there anything else you can tell us?’
I blink back tears, frantically trying to rid myself of them before they fall. Fran is right, sitting here crying won’t get Laurel home to us. Although slightly forced, Fran seems to be trying to channel her usual brisk self, and I guess that is the only way she can cope with what is happening in this house right now – to try and keep control of events the way she always does. I can imagine her sitting upstairs, beating herself up, punishing herself for her emotional outbursts and hating herself for losing control.
‘Well,’ Wright says, pushing her dark hair away from her face and gratefully accepting the hot tea that Kelly thrusts in her direction – she’s good for refreshments, if nothing else – ‘we have made some headway following the initial door-to-door enquiries.’
‘Really?’ Dominic lifts his head and gazes around the kitchen. ‘Why are we only hearing about it now?’
‘As you can understand, checking out the possible sighting of Laurel became our priority, and I have only just received the most recent updates from the team that are carrying out the enquiries.’
‘So, what is it?’ The words tumble out before I can stop them and Fran stares at me, putting me back in my place without saying a word. Laurel is her daughter, not mine. Wright doesn’t appear to notice though.
‘There has been a report of a child matching Laurel’s description getting into a car along the lane from the bonfire last night, at a time that corresponds to when Laurel went missing.’
‘What?’ Fran whispers, her face a chalky white. She licks at her lips and raises a shaky hand to her mouth to wipe at it.
‘Obviously, we are taking this witness very seriously, and we will be investigating further,’ DS Wright says, glancing between myself, Fran and Dominic, as though wanting to make it absolutely clear that this could also be another dead end.
‘Tell us what happened. Tell us who saw it and exactly what they think they saw.’ Dominic is on his feet, fingers gripping the edge of the table tightly, so tightly that his knuckles are white.
‘A resident of the area looked out of the window at approximately eight fifteen last night, supposedly to watch the fireworks display, and saw a young girl getting into a car not far from the entrance to the display. She describes the car as an “off-roader” which we are taking to mean an SUV. Officers are with the lady now, showing her pictures of different vehicles to see if she can narrow it down for us. At the moment an SUV, possibly dark in colour although she can’t be sure, is all she can tell us.’
‘And what about the driver?’ Dominic says, a sheen of sweat sparkling on his forehead, in the patches where his silver hair has started to recede. ‘Did she see who was driving it? A man? Woman? Did she see anything?’
‘She says it was too dark to see who was driving, and to be honest, she didn’t really think anything of it at the time. All she saw was a small girl, wearing a pink coat, climbing into the back seat of a dark car.’
‘How can she be sure it was Laurel?’ Fran asks, her voice barely above a whisper. She clears her throat, making a harsh, raspy sound that seems too loud in the thick silence of the kitchen. ‘I mean, Laurel wouldn’t get into a car, would she?’ She looks to me and I shake my head, reluctantly. ‘She wouldn’t go off with a stranger. I know my daughter, DS Wright, and she wouldn’t willingly get into a stranger’s car, not after everything I’ve taught her.’
‘She might, though,’ I say, unable to keep the words in, knowing that I’m about to effectively tell the police that I know how Laurel would react to this situation better than Fran would. ‘Sorry, Fran, I don’t mean to contradict you, but she might. Laurel is a very friendly, outgoing child.’ I think about the way she stops to greet Mr Snow every afternoon, the way she always has a smile and a wave for everyone, regardless of whether she knows them or not. ‘And she’s only little. If a stranger told her that you had said she was to go with them, there’s every chance that she might have got into a car.’
‘We don’t know for certain that it was Laurel,’ DS Wright says, as Fran turns an icy-cold gaze on me, her eyes narrowed. I don’t know which is worse – the idea that Laurel might have got into a car belonging to somebody she doesn’t know, or that it isn’t her and we are still no closer to finding her. ‘But I have to ask you if you know anybody who might have a dark-coloured SUV?’
‘No. We don’t know anyone who has a dark-coloured SUV. And she wouldn’t have got in it anyway.’ Fran’s nostrils flare as she speaks, deliberating turning her face away to let me know that she is in charge of this, not me, that I shouldn’t have dared to contradict her.
‘Of course. As I said, officers are working with the witness concerned, and as soon as I have anything more to tell you, I will.’ A shrill ring pierces the air, and DS Wright excuses herself to answer the call. I let out a breath that I haven’t even realised I’ve been holding.
‘Do you mind if I . . .’ I wave a hand towards the staircase, and Dominic gives a little shrug. I need to step away for a moment, away from the tension, the words that lay between all of us, unsaid. The blame that I feel lies on my shoulders for mistaking that girl for Laurel and raising everyone’s hopes. I escape to my tiny box room, pausing only briefly on the landing to turn the heating back on. Dominic is behind me and I let out a little gasp of shock.
‘Sorry, you startled me,’ I say, pressing my hand to my chest, feeling my heartbeat thud rapidly beneath my palm.
‘Sorry.’ He looks a little sheepish. ‘I only wanted to say . . . you did the right thing just now. Speaking up to say that you thought Laurel might have got in the car.’
‘Oh. I just . . . I didn’t mean to . . .’
‘Really, Anna, it was the right thing to do. I saw the look Fran gave you when you said it, and I . . . look, you know how she is.’ Our eyes meet in a look of understanding. Yes, I know how she is. ‘This is really tough on her, and she’s probably going to take a lot of it out on you, but I understand that it’s tough on you, too. You can talk to me, if you need to.’
‘Thank you.’ I feel a faint blush start to creep up my neck, relief that perhaps I am not on my own through this starting to flood my veins.
‘And if you think of anything – anything at all that might help find Laurel – in the meantime just come to me.’ Dominic pats the top of my arm and turns to head back down the stairs to Fran.
My room is freezing cold, the weak wintry sunlight streaming in through the window not enough to warm the room at all. I’m not sure if it’s the temperature of the room, or the fact that Laurel is missing that makes me shiver, my arms stippled with goosebumps. My stomach twists, as I think of her again, running after Fran, the way I turned back to the fireworks display before I saw her catch up. Why didn’t I keep my eyes on her, just for a few seconds longer?