Will’s throat constricted. Unable to speak, he nodded at his old colleague.
It felt odd to be on the other end of an investigation. Missing child’s closest relative. He shivered. If he had been leading the investigation, he would be taking a very close look at the person holding that particular title. Four-year-old Josh Wilkins had been tortured and killed by his uncle, and the whole force knew that Naomi Jones had died at the hands of her father — they just couldn’t find enough evidence to send him down. Not that it had mattered in the long run, because the bastard had topped himself, or so it appeared. Will was never totally convinced that he hadn’t had a bit of help.
No, he would much rather be the one carrying a warrant card than the anxiously waiting nearest and dearest.
He saw a uniformed sergeant approaching him, talking on his radio. That familiar crackle made Will long to be part of it all again. He had been too young to retire, he missed the buzz, the excitement. It would have been different if Kate had been well, or if Emma had lived. Then he could have enjoyed a new life with his family. Right now, all he wanted was to be part of the action, chasing the bad guys. And not alone.
‘The super has asked me to thank you for letting us use Holland House as a meeting point, and for all the cups of tea you’ve given us.’ He paused, hesitated. ‘It’s now been more than twenty-four hours since Sophie went missing. You, of all people, know that doesn’t bode well for her. We’ve cast the net further, the nationals have been given her photograph and all the TV channels are carrying the story. I expect you’ve already seen the press hanging around, and I’m pretty sure you’ll be inundated with them before long. You know what things are like these days — the powers that be want quick results, and we saw no reason not to enlist the help of the media straightaway. I hope it’s not a problem to you?’
‘No. The more people you can reach out to, the more chance of finding someone who has seen her.’ Will was glad his wife wasn’t there to see her precious garden trampled by policemen’s boots.
‘I’ve just heard from the station — a witness has come forward who thinks she may have seen Sophie.’
Will fastened his eyes on the burly sergeant. ‘Yes? And?’
‘She’s only a kid herself, but she says she saw a young girl walking alone down a footpath across a field a mile or so outside the village. Seems she described her clothing in some detail. Kids are very clothes conscious, aren’t they?’
‘When was this?’
‘Yesterday, at about two o’clock. If she was on foot, it would be about right, timewise, from when she left the hotel.’
Will’s heart sank. It was too long ago. Anything could have happened to the child since then. He ran his fingers through his hair. But if it was her, then it did seem like she was heading in the direction of Whisper Fen. Yet, why come to the house that had scared her so badly? ‘Nothing since then?’
‘No. We’ve been to every house, farm, barn and derelict building for miles. No one has seen her, or anything suspicious.’
‘Someone has got her, Sergeant.’
‘We don’t know that for sure, Will. We have to keep our hopes up.’
‘I wonder how many times I’ve said that.’ He smiled sadly at the officer. ‘I was never brave enough to agree either.’
The man looked down at the ground. ‘Kids have turned up after much longer than this. You know that.’
‘And a good percentage turn up dead, don’t they?’
Will’s phone buzzed in his trouser pocket. Before he answered, he told the man that the kitchen was unlocked and his troops should help themselves to hot drinks.
Poor Fauve sounded ready to crack. ‘What the hell is happening, Will? I’m a prisoner here! I daren’t move from this damned hotel in case . . . in case she comes back. I only left her for a few minutes, Will. You do believe me, don’t you? I’m so, so, sorry.’
‘We’ve been over this, Philip. It’s not your fault, okay? No one is blaming you.’
‘Well, I’m blaming me!’
‘Then you are the only one, man! No one could have expected such a thing to happen. Think of all the people who go out and leave their children alone half the night, or all damned night for that matter.’
‘It doesn’t help, Will. I love that kid and I’ve let her down. If some bastard has got her, I’ll tear his head off, so help me! Oh God, I’m sorry, talking like this. I just wish Annette were here.’
Will felt for this man. Out of the kindness of his heart, he had taken in his best friend’s orphaned child, and now this had happened. He must have felt that he had let everyone down, not just Sophie, but Eva and Guy as well, not to mention Will himself.
‘Did I tell you that they are sending her doctor out, the man who has been counselling her?’
‘No, Philip. When is he due?’
‘Tonight. Not sure what time exactly. They reckon that when she is found, she’ll need a specialist to debrief her, and she’ll respond better to someone she trusts.’
If she is found. ‘We have a special police unit that would look after her. They’re trained to work with children who have been abused. Listen, Philip, have you got someone with you? Have you been assigned a liaison officer?’
‘Yes. Nice woman. The hotel people have set a room aside for the police to use. She’s down there now talking to some of her colleagues. I just needed to hear a friendly voice.’ He paused. ‘How is Kate taking it all?’
‘Er, Kate has gone into hospital for a few days’ observation, Philip. She needs help, and more than I can give her, I’m afraid.’
‘I’m real sorry to hear that, Will. But sometimes you just have to throw up your hands and say, “Over to you.” There is only so much you can do in the face of illness. I admire you for getting her the help that she needs. It can’t have been easy, especially with all this going on at the same time.’
‘I’m gutted, Philip, just gutted.’
‘And here I am wailing to you like a baby. Look, you take care, and if anything happens here, I’ll call you immediately.’
Will promised to do the same. They wished each other well and rang off.
Hearing the loud voices coming from the kitchen, Will decided to give it a wide berth and find himself something constructive to do. He went slowly upstairs and stopped outside Kate’s studio.
He had to get a look at her latest work. She would have taken the key, of course, but just in case, he tried the door. To his amazement, it swung open. He stepped inside, feeling like a voyeur. He had been made to feel so unwelcome there of late that he kept looking over his shoulder in case he was being observed.
On her workbench lay copies of the finished illustrations for the Fairy Dreams book, the ones the courier had collected. He leafed through them. They were good, but that eerie and slightly frightening atmosphere increased as he progressed through the series. He wondered what Angela would make of them. Still, at least Kate had managed to complete them. He wondered if he should tell the agent of Kate’s illness but thought better of it. She would be furious at his interfering. Maybe after Lawrence Hassel had finished treating her, she’d be able to deal with Hubert herself.