‘And you believed the note?’ Penn asked as she tucked a lock of curly blonde hair behind her ear.
‘Actually, I did because underneath the words was a smiley face. Evil people don’t draw smiley faces, do they? That was my eight-year-old logic, so I believed him.’
‘Him?’ Penn asked, jumping ahead. Had she seen her captor?
‘I’ve just assumed all these years that it was a man. I never smelled any perfume or even heard footsteps, but I’ve always assumed it was a man.’
His hopes were dashed. They were not going to get a positive identification from this one either, but he was intrigued enough to keep listening.
‘I started to eat the food and enjoy the space. The room was lovely. I had a big bed, my own bathroom. A television on the wall, a desk and a wardrobe full of new clothes and shoes. There was a window, but it was covered with some kind of mural. I tried to peel it off, but it was glued from the outside.’
‘Didn’t you miss your family?’ Penn asked. He couldn’t imagine being taken away from his parents and Jasper at that age.
A shadow passed over her face. ‘I missed my friends more. They had been my lifeline.’
Why did an eight-year-old need a lifeline? Penn wondered but didn’t interrupt.
‘After a couple of weeks, the schoolwork started to appear on alternate days. If I finished my lessons, the next day I got comics and batteries for Fido.’
‘Fido?’
Libby smiled. ‘You know those electronic pet games. You had to feed it, walk it, train it and show it love by patting it.’
‘So he brought you presents?’
She nodded. ‘Games and puzzles. Normally it was something that kept the brain ticking over, something challenging that had to be accomplished. I remember one time when my bracelet broke. Oh I was so upset; my grandma had bought it for me before she died. It was the loop for the fastener that I couldn’t find. Next day there was a pair of tweezers and a little clamp. I managed to work one of the circles of the chain so I could repair it. A few days later there was a box full of beads, string and fasteners, enough stuff to make a hundred bracelets.’
Penn glanced to the workbench.
‘Who knew it would become my passion and my job?’
‘Was there anything else he brought you?’ Penn asked, seeking clues in his actions.
‘Cough mixture,’ she said. ‘I got a cough, and medicine and throat sweets came during the night. He brought me a book that I hadn’t asked for, but I read it and asked for another.’
‘You asked?’
‘I held the book up to the camera in the corner and nodded.’
So he’d had a camera on them the whole time. He’d been watching them for God only knew what reason.
‘The camera didn’t make you feel uncomfortable? Knowing you were being watched?’
She shook her head. ‘It made me feel safe. I absolutely knew that no one could hurt me.’
Penn heard the emotion that crept into her voice. ‘And had someone hurt you?’ he asked gently.
Libby took a box of cigarettes from her desk drawer and opened the door to the back garden. She lit a cigarette and leaned against the door frame.
It didn’t go unnoticed by Penn that all the talk about her captivity had prompted nothing but fondly recalled memories. Touching on her life in the real world had brought on the need for a nerve-steadying cigarette and the appearance of tension in her shoulders and face.
‘It’s not something I like to talk about.’
He remained silent.
Another draw on the cigarette, a long breath out and she was ready to speak.
‘Those books that he brought me. They were true accounts of girls who had been abused. Their stories, their struggles, their triumphs.’
Penn didn’t know what to say. He let the silence last until she was ready to fill it.
‘My uncle had been touching me for a few months. He did the usual, said that people would get hurt if I told anyone. I would cry myself to sleep trying to swallow the shame and disgust. I did what he told me to. I stopped eating and completely withdrew into myself. It was the fear you see. I became constantly frightened of his visits, of my mum finding out and getting hurt. I felt trapped and alone.’
She shook her head as though shaking away the experience.
‘The books I read told me I wasn’t alone. I came to understand that with one threat my uncle had taken away all my power. The stories I read gave me strength and encouragement. When that door finally opened and I saw the van waiting, I knew it was time to return to my life and put it right. I was only a year older, but it felt like a lifetime. I was bursting with my truth.’
‘Did you see anyone in the van?’ Penn asked. He wanted to hear her story, but he also couldn’t miss any opportunity to learn something that might help their investigation and bring Grace Lennard home safely.
She shook her head. ‘No one. I just knew it was time to leave. There was a mattress in the back to soften the ride. Sometime later, the van stopped and the door opened. Believe it or not, I hesitated. I felt as though I was leaving safety to plunge into uncertainty, but I got out and started walking. There was a police station, so I went in and told them who I was.’
‘I read that you went straight into the care system.’
‘On that very day, I told the police about my uncle. Lots of people came to talk to me but I really wanted my mum. And when she came, she broke my heart. She didn’t believe me, and after hugging me, she asked me to take it back and tell everyone I was confused. I could see the pain it was causing her, but I couldn’t put the words back in. I didn’t want to. I was placed in temporary care until they sorted it all out. I missed my mum but I was happy. I was around other kids in a foster home, with a great family, and I felt no fear. I didn’t want to go back to that, and my mother refused to believe it of her brother so I stayed in care. About ten years later he was caught abusing the child of one of his neighbours. He was prosecuted. My mum reappeared full of apologies and shame, but it was too late.’
‘You lost a lot of time with—’
‘Do you know one of the worst things to paralyse the life of an abuse survivor later in life, the thing that keeps them awake and fills them with rage?’
Penn shook his head.
‘Staying quiet. Not telling anyone. Allowing the abuser to silence them. I’m not going to say those years after I came back were easy. They were difficult for many reasons but not because I was terrified and not because I hated myself. I’ve suffered much less than others because I found the courage to speak out. It was something that happened to me, but it hasn’t shaped me.’
Although Penn had heard from the boss about Suzie’s recollection of her time in captivity, it was strange hearing the gratitude behind Libby’s words for the strength she felt she’d been given during that time.
‘Was there anything about the journey back that you can recall?’ Penn asked, dragging himself away from the emotional and back to the practical. And the reason for his visit.
She shook her head. ‘It might have been fifteen minutes or fifty, I don’t recall.’
‘Any particular sounds or…?’
‘Officer, it was twenty-nine years ago.’
Penn knew that nothing else was coming. She had no need to remember. She had no wish to help them catch the person who had taken her. She bore no ill will towards him.