The Night Away: An absolutely unputdownable psychological thriller Page 10

  ‘What about your brother-in-law, George?’ the detective continues. ‘Before he left for his conference, did he remind you to lock up properly?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Like Amber, he just assumed you’d remember to do it.’

  ‘He didn’t know I was looking after Mabel by myself. He thought, um …’ Ruby pauses, aware of the implications of what she’s about to say. ‘He thought Amber was going to be there too.’

  ‘Oh, so he didn’t know about the … what was it?’ She flicks through her notes. ‘Yes, the yoga weekend. Why was it a secret?’

  ‘Look, it’s nothing to do with me. You’ll have to ask Amber about it.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  DS Smart writes a note, then pushes the pad across the table to show her colleague. He nods, rises and leaves the room. Ruby feels sick. That’s two suspicious marks against Amber. She didn’t mean to dump her in it, but she couldn’t help it; she has to tell the truth. Come to think of it, why did Amber lie to George?

  ‘How are you feeling?’ DS Smart says, after a pause. ‘Can I get you another drink? Tea, coffee, glass of water?’

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘I’m sorry to have to ask you all these questions, but they’re extremely important.’

  ‘I understand. I’ll do anything to help find Mabel.’

  The detective sits back in her chair, adjusting the front of her crisp blue shirt. ‘Okay, so given that there were no doors or windows left open, no signs of forced entry, how do you think the abductor managed to get inside the flat?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Ruby says. ‘It’s really bugging me.’

  ‘Was your sister or brother-in-law in the habit of leaving a spare key somewhere – under the doormat, in a flowerpot?’

  She almost laughs. ‘No. They’d never do that. Not in a million years.’

  ‘Anyone lost a key recently?’

  ‘Not that I know of; you’ll have to ask them.’

  ‘What about you? Have you ever lost your key?’

  ‘I’m not allowed my own key – I always borrow the spare.’ She briefly remembers last weekend, when she couldn’t find the key to give back to Amber. But it turned up later so that doesn’t count. ‘I’ve never lost it,’ she adds.

  The detective smacks her lips together. ‘Okay, let’s put aside the method of entry for now. All we know at this stage is that someone, somehow managed to enter the flat … so the next thing that puzzles me is this, Ruby. How did the abductor manage to take a seven-month-old baby out of her cot and carry her downstairs without you hearing a peep?’

  Ruby shrugs. ‘I was on the floor above, fast asleep. Whoever it was switched off the baby monitor.’

  ‘You didn’t hear footsteps or creaks on the stairs, the front door opening and closing?’

  ‘No. Nothing.’

  ‘Surely Mabel must have woken up at some point? I’m really surprised you didn’t hear any crying.’

  ‘So am I, but I sleep very deeply – always have done. I often don’t hear the alarm in the morning. My boyfriend has to wake me up.’

  ‘Really?’

  Yes, really, she thinks. Lewis says she could sleep for England, although now Mabel has been taken, she doubts she’ll ever be able to sleep again.

  Ruby walks out of the police station in a daze. She has spent the last two hours going over everything again and again in minute detail, and now she’s exhausted. The more she talked, the less clear and more unreal it seemed. There were moments when it felt like she was making the entire thing up, recounting somebody else’s tragedy about an abducted baby called Mabel and a negligent babysitter by the name of Ruby. Part of her brain still believes this kind of thing doesn’t happen to people like her.

  A taxi is waiting to take her home. She climbs onto the back seat and confirms her address. The car pulls away, leaving the police station car park and joining the sluggish Sunday traffic. Switching her phone back on, Ruby texts Lewis to tell him she’s on her way. They only managed a brief conversation earlier. He sounded utterly grief-stricken, which surprised her. Not because Lewis is an uncaring person – quite the opposite – but she hadn’t expected him to be able to process the news so quickly, or to respond with such emotion. She still feels outside of herself, not properly in touch with how she must surely feel within.

  She cannot, will not, imagine the worst. Mabel will be returned, like a parcel that’s gone astray. Very little post is actually lost forever. It may be delivered to the wrong address or not have enough stamps for its weight; it may sit on a sideboard for a few weeks before someone bothers to put it back in the postbox. But it always turns up eventually – maybe a little bent and creased, but safe nonetheless. Things don’t vanish into thin air, as her mother used to say in an exasperated tone every time Ruby lost something. It’s the same with people. They are always somewhere, waiting to be found. You just have to keep on looking.

  The journey passes without her being aware of it, and suddenly the driver is drawing up on the double yellow line outside their block. She pays him then gets out and stumbles towards the large metal gate. Suddenly unable to remember the entry code, she has to press the bell. The gate clicks open immediately and Lewis comes out to meet her on the path.

  ‘Oh Ruby,’ he says.

  She lets herself be enveloped in his embrace, and they stand locked together for a few moments, not saying anything, just listening to each other breathing. ‘Come on, let’s go inside.’ He guides her gently into their flat.

  As soon as he shuts the door behind them, Ruby lets out a long howl, like an animal caught in a trap.

  ‘It’s all my fault,’ she wails.

  ‘That’s it, let it all out,’ he says, helping her into the lounge and lowering her onto the sofa. He lifts her legs up and puts a cushion behind her head.

  ‘Mabel’s gone and it’s all my fault!’

  ‘That’s not true, you can’t say that. It could have happened to anyone.’

  ‘A stranger took her and I didn’t hear a bloody thing.’

  ‘You were fast asleep.’

  She picks up a cushion and hugs it to her as the tears run down her face. ‘I should have stayed awake all night, I should have had her in the bed with me, I should never, never have left her downstairs on her own.’

  ‘Amber and George do it.’

  ‘That’s not the point – I was looking after her and she wasn’t safe.’

  ‘You weren’t to know …’

  She throws the cushion to the floor. ‘And this morning, I completely messed up! When someone goes missing, the first hour is the most important – the golden hour, they call it. I should have rung the police straight away, but I spent time looking for Amber. I thought she’d taken Mabel without telling me. I didn’t think, it didn’t occur to me that …’

  ‘No, of course it didn’t,’ he soothes. ‘I’d have made the same mistake.’ She cries out in pain, and he quickly corrects himself. ‘I mean, I would have done exactly the same thing.’

  She looks up at him with liquid eyes. ‘Really? You mean that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Oh. Thank you,’ she whispers.

  ‘Do you want a glass of wine? I know I need one.’ She nods. He fetches a bottle of red and pours two large glasses. ‘Here, get that down you. You’re in shock.’

  Ruby takes the glass and starts to drink. The wine makes its way to her head, and she immediately feels woozy. Lewis sits on the edge of the sofa and strokes her legs.

  ‘I begged you to come with me, but you wouldn’t,’ she says.

  ‘I had to work.’

  She wipes her cheeks with the sleeve of her jumper. ‘If you’d been there, they wouldn’t have dared.’

  ‘How on earth did they get in?’

  She shrugs. ‘The police are still trying to work it out. The detective who interviewed me seemed to think they might have had a key.’

  Lewis’s eyebrows rise. ‘Really? Well, that narrows it down a bit. Who has keys? Clean
ers … neighbours … builders?’ He tips his glass, thinking. ‘Hang on, the flat used to be a rental, didn’t it? Did Amber and George change the locks when they moved in?’

  ‘Probably, knowing them.’

  ‘If they didn’t, it could be a previous tenant. There could be dozens of spares knocking around.’

  Ruby jolts. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. Should I mention it to the police?’

  ‘Not now.’ He pats her. ‘You’ve been through enough for one day. They’re bound to ask Amber and George about it.’

  ‘My chest is so tight, Lew, there’s this hard lump right here. It’s like a piece of my heart has broken off and got stuck. It really hurts.’

  ‘Just try to relax.’

  ‘How can I, when she’s out there somewhere, all on her own?’ She sniffs up more tears. ‘Have you spoken to Amber?’

  ‘No. Nothing from George, either, but your mother left a message on the answerphone.’

  ‘Oh?’ She makes a move towards the machine, but he raises his hand.

  ‘Don’t listen to it. She was very upset; I’m sure she didn’t mean some of the things she said, but I would steer clear of her place for now.’

  ‘I knew she’d blame me.’ Ruby drains her glass, then holds it out for a refill.

  ‘Amber and George are staying with her tonight because they can’t go back to the flat.’

  ‘No, it’s a crime scene.’ Ruby watches the red liquid glug out of the bottle. ‘They took my DNA. I’ve never had that done before. It made me feel so guilty.’

  ‘You didn’t do anything wrong.’

  ‘Amber will never forgive me, not even if Mabel’s found safe and well. Nor will Mum. The family’s broken forever. I’m an outcast.’

  Lewis shakes his head. ‘How many more times, it wasn’t your fault, just bad luck. If the guy had a key …’

  ‘We don’t know it’s a guy.’

  ‘Well, paedos are usually male.’

  She rounds on him. ‘We don’t know it’s a paedo! Please don’t say that, I can’t bear it. This is Mabel we’re talking about – our Mabel!’ Her eyes flash angrily.

  ‘We have to face facts,’ he says, standing up and walking restlessly across the room. ‘That’s what usually happens in these cases. Either the child just vanishes and is never seen again, or they’re found d—’

  ‘Please, Lewis, just stop!’

  He holds up his hands in surrender and returns to the sofa.

  They sit in silence for a few moments, each fighting off their own dark thoughts.

  ‘We’ve got to be positive,’ she continues. ‘We don’t have any facts, not yet. Anyone could have her. They might be looking after her really well.’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ he says, but she can tell he doesn’t believe it. ‘The police must have suspicions about who might have taken her. They have lists.’

  She takes a sip and swills the wine thoughtfully around her mouth. ‘They seem to think I’ve got something to do with it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I don’t know, I just got the impression they thought I was lying. Covering up.’

  ‘That’s insane. Why would you do that?’

  ‘They can smell a rat, I’m sure of it. Mabel wasn’t taken from a hospital, or lured into a car, or stolen from a caravan or a campsite – she was in her own home, with all the doors and windows closed and no sign of anyone forcing their way in. Whoever took her knew exactly where and when to find her. And what’s more, she didn’t wake up. Which makes me think maybe she was taken by someone she knew.’

  ‘What are you trying to say, Rubes?’ he asks slowly.

  She wrestles the idea reluctantly out of its hiding place. ‘I don’t know exactly. But Amber’s been acting really strangely lately, completely out of character. I put it down to postnatal depression, but I think it’s more than that – or maybe she’s not depressed at all. She’s definitely been lying to George, and probably to me too. I get the feeling she’s up to something.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  She sits up straight. ‘What if it wasn’t a coincidence that I was looking after Mabel on my own last night? What if it was all part of the plan?’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Day Two without Mabel

  Amber refuses to go to bed, even though it’s well past midnight. Eating, sleeping, washing and dressing are of no interest to her right now. She doesn’t care if she stinks to high heaven; she’ll wear the same clothes until Mabel is found.

  ‘At least go and lie down,’ her mother says. ‘You need to rest. Keep your strength up.’

  ‘She’s right,’ adds George. ‘We’ve done all we can for today.’

  ‘But I haven’t done anything!’

  ‘You’ve been helping the police.’

  She sighs heavily. ‘Not really. Not like you.’

  After their interviews with DI Benedict, George insisted on driving to Waltham Green to look for Mabel. He wanted her to go with him, but she said she didn’t have the strength. Besides, she knew it would be a waste of time. He was gone for hours, and when he returned, frazzled and defeated, he looked as if he’d aged ten years.

  ‘Shall I make some hot chocolate?’ her mother asks. They both shake their heads.

  ‘Just go to bed, Mum. Please.’

  ‘There’s no point, I won’t sleep.’ Vicky rises from the armchair. ‘It’s getting chilly. If we’re going to stay up all night, I’d better put the heating back on.’ She leaves the room. Amber hears the whoosh of the boiler reigniting, the chink of crockery, the hum of the kettle – the sounds of her mother’s heart breaking. Mum adores Mabel, although she hasn’t been as active a grandmother as Amber expected. Maybe she regrets that now, Amber thinks, blaming herself for letting Ruby babysit when it should have been her job. Or maybe she’s relieved that it wasn’t her in charge.

  George and Amber sit in uneasy silence for a few minutes. There’s everything and nothing to say. They haven’t been on their own together since George first arrived and lost his temper. The calm between them now is born of exhaustion, nothing more. Tomorrow, the blame game will doubtless be resumed. Amber has never felt so lonely. She’s standing on an island, surrounded by a treacherous sea of secrets. Nobody can reach her. Only Seth, but she’s afraid to contact him.

  She yawns. Her legs ache with tiredness and she feels faintly sick. Hugging herself against the cold, she closes her eyes for a few moments and finds herself back in the interview with DI Benedict. All those questions … It was supposed to be a witness statement, but it felt more like an interrogation. She stepped carefully over his conversational tripwires, and stopped herself filling his deliberate pauses with nervous incriminating chatter. Despite that, she knows he knows she’s lying – although probably not what about. Not yet, anyway.

  She doesn’t trust the family liaison officer either. She’s meant to be supporting them, but Amber senses she’s been put in the house to spy and eavesdrop on their conversations. Thankfully, she has gone home now, but she’ll be back first thing in the morning. They need to be careful what they say in front of her; they need to present a united front.

  Her mother comes back in carrying a mug of hot chocolate and a small plate of custard creams. She’s done nothing all day but make drinks and arrange biscuits.

  ‘Are you sure I can’t get you anything?’ she asks for the umpteenth time.

  ‘No!’ retorts Amber.

  ‘No thanks,’ says George.

  Vicky sits down and cradles her mug in her hands. ‘I expect they’ve packed in the search for the night,’ she says, thinking aloud.

  Amber makes an agreeing noise. Part of her wants her mother to shut up and go to bed, but another part is grateful that she’s acting as a buffer zone between her and George.

  ‘Did the police ask you about people who’d visited the flat recently?’ George says. Amber nods.

  ‘I can’t think why they needed to interview you together and then all over again separately,’ her m
other chips in.

  ‘It’s in case there’s something we don’t want to say in front of each other,’ explains Amber. Her mother pulls a face to say she understands but still thinks it’s wrong.

  ‘I felt bad giving names of family and friends,’ says George.

  Amber shrugs. ‘They want to test their DNA, that’s all. For elimination—’

  ‘Yes, I know … Still embarrassing. I don’t want them to think we suspect them.’

  ‘They’ll understand.’

  She’s surprised by how small the number of regular and/or recent visitors to the flat is. Yet more evidence, if it were needed, of how much her social life has shrunk. They were always inviting friends over before Mabel was born, but hardly anyone comes by now. More often than not, her weekdays are spent alone. DI Benedict asked her about her mental health in a way that made her think somebody had told him she was depressed. George, she guessed, or possibly Ruby? She denied it, of course.

  ‘Well, I might as well wash up those mugs,’ says Vicky, rising the instant she finishes her drink. Amber can’t stand her restlessness – it’s making her feel tense. ‘Then maybe I’ll lie down for a bit. I won’t be asleep. If you need me, just shout.’

  ‘Okay,’ Amber says.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ says George, as soon as Vicky leaves the room, ‘I really hate even mentioning it, but I think I should put it out there …’ He pauses.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s just a theory, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense.’

  ‘What?!’

  He takes a deep breath. ‘Ruby.’

  ‘What about Ruby?’

  ‘I think she’s lying about Mabel being taken from the cot.’

  Amber’s face puckers into a frown. ‘Sorry, I don’t … I mean, why would she? She’s devastated. She wants the police to find Mabel as much as we do.’

  ‘Hmm …’ His lips purse together. ‘We only have her word for what happened.’