Little Girl Lost (Detective Robyn Carter crime thriller series Book 1) Read online

  Abigail’s heartbeat quickened but an inner anger at the cruel voice steadied her nerves. ‘Who is this? What do you want?’

  There was a brief pause then the sound of laughter made more menacing by the machinelike tone. ‘Never mind who I am. Who are you? I am watching your every move. And, I am going to destroy your life.’

  The phone went dead. Abigail flicked through the log but it was a withheld number. Her heart hammered as she anxiously ran through her options. There weren’t many. She couldn’t trace the call as it had come from an unknown number and there was no one she could confront. A shiver travelled through her as the message from the caller ran through her mind. You can’t trust anyone. She stuffed the phone in her bag and tried to calm down. She couldn’t let on that something was up. She needed time to think. She chewed on her lip, wondering what to do. A flustered Rachel reappeared.

  ‘The queue for the loo was ridiculous. I was nearly bursting by the time I got in. Where is everyone? Look, I have to go. I didn’t know it was so late. I’ll be late for work. Sorry to rush off. Lovely to see you and Izzy. We must do this again soon,’ she said. ‘Can you say goodbye to the others for me?’ She leant forward and air-kissed Abigail.

  Abigail nodded dumbly before managing to thank her for the toy bear. Rachel dismissed her thanks with a smile and a wave and beetled off.

  Zoe reappeared as soon as Rachel left. She gave a small shrug of apology.

  ‘Got caught. Met someone I used to teach,’ she said. ‘Wouldn’t stop talking. She’s put some weight on. I guess she doesn’t work out as much nowadays. You okay? You look startled.’

  ‘No, I’m fine. Rachel surprised me by suddenly leaving.’

  ‘Oh, she’s probably got to go to work. She was on this afternoon’s shift.’

  ‘That’s what she said.’

  ‘I really like her. She’s so different. She makes me laugh.’ Zoe cocked her head to one side, like a sparrow searching for insects, while her eyes sparkled with merriment. Zoe was not someone who took life seriously. Abigail suddenly had the urge to leave and get away from Zoe, the café and everyone. She began picking up the plastic tubs and bottle and shoving them in her bag.

  ‘You going too?’ asked Zoe.

  ‘Yes. I’ve got a headache coming on and I promised Jackson I wouldn’t be long. He’s off today.’

  ‘You certainly don’t want to have too many headaches with Jackson at home,’ joked Zoe. Abigail forced her mouth to smile. Claire chose that moment to return. Izzy was gurgling again and drooling over the keys in her mouth.

  ‘One happy little monkey,’ said Claire, handing Izzy to her mother and removing the keys. ‘Oh, please don’t tell me you’re leaving? I was hoping now Rachel’s gone we could have more of a giggle.’

  ‘Jackson’s at home,’ explained Zoe with a wink.

  ‘I see,’ replied Claire, grinning. ‘Can’t leave the man alone, eh? I quite understand.’

  Abigail faked another smile and hustled Izzy into her buggy where she protested and began to howl. Feeling far more flustered than she wished to show, she said her goodbyes and left the café wondering what to do next, how she was going to tackle Jackson, or indeed if she ought to. The mocking voice echoed in her ears as she started the car. Who was it and how far would they really go to destroy everything she had built up?

  8

  Now

  The newspaper article not only managed to get Paul Matthews’ age wrong, claiming he was fifty-nine, but has reported he suffered a heart attack while running.

  I am torn between laughter and indignation. I want to email the journalist who wrote it and tell him the truth; that I am responsible for Paul’s demise.

  It was brilliantly executed. I strategically set up a tripwire that caused him to fall onto an upright stub of a tree with sharp branches poking out from its base. I had rather hoped one of the cruel branches, sharp as knives, would stick in his eye and splinter into his brain but that didn’t happen. However, smashing a branch into his face worked a treat. I had thought about aiming for the midline of his face where I could cause the most damage and fracture his nose, which would result in laceration or dissection of the carotid arteries and fatal damage to the brainstem. However, that sort of damage is more likely to occur when the victim is in a high-speed situation, not jogging, and given that I didn’t want to raise suspicions I settled for a blow to the temple. My research had paid off. He dropped like a stone.

  9

  ‘Thank you very much for your help and for getting back to me so promptly,’ said Robyn politely before disconnecting the Skype call from Thailand. She relaxed against the leather chair and thoughtfully tapped her teeth with a pencil.

  Ross was staring glumly at a pile of receipts. He detested paperwork and if it weren’t for his wife who helped out with the books, the business would not be as lucrative as it was. Before Jeanette had become responsible for the accounts, Ross would even forget to bill clients. He hunted through his trouser pockets and unearthed a tatty receipt, unfolded it and added it to the pile. He looked up as Robyn replaced the telephone receiver. ‘I don’t know why Jeanette insists on me keeping every receipt. Do you think she’s checking up on what I buy?’

  ‘No. I think she’s making sure you put the correct expenses through the books. If it weren’t for her, the accounts would be in a right state every year. I hardly think she’s checking through each one to see if you bought a Mars bar for your lunch.’

  Ross closed his eyes for a second. ‘I could just eat one or two of those,’ he murmured. ‘All that delicious caramel coating my mouth.’

  ‘Stop torturing yourself. Think of your arteries. They don’t need a coating of any description. You’ve already had one wake-up call. How many more do you need?’

  Ross had been with the police all his life and risen to the same rank as Robyn, a detective inspector, until his heart had started playing up. Plagued by bouts of tachycardia and sweating, he had finally gone to the doctor only to be referred to a specialist. Twenty-four-hour Holter monitoring, exercise tolerance tests, clinical and echographic examinations resulted in a diagnosis of ventricular extrasystole, an erratic heartbeat which, although not life-threatening, made him rethink his lifestyle and work choices. He had moved into the field of private investigation to have less stress but still struggled with other lifestyle choices.

  Ross grimaced. ‘True. No joy with the Devlins, then?’

  ‘They haven’t seen Lucas Matthews in months. In fact, Lucas hasn’t been in contact with them at all, which they thought strange. They’ve sent the usual chatty emails with the latest news about their son Max, but he didn’t reply. Normally, he’s keen to know how his protégé is doing. They issued an invite to come and stay and celebrate Max’s birthday with them but he said he was a “little busy” this year to visit. They couldn’t tell me any more than that he was a dedicated teacher who had really looked after Max. Max was picked on in his first year at school for looking and acting a little effeminate but Lucas took him under his wing and ensured he had a happy time at boarding school. His mother went on and on about how Lucas had been like an older brother to Max.’

  Ross shrugged. ‘Dead end.’

  ‘If they knew about his penchant for lady boys, they certainly weren’t willing to tell me.’

  Ross unwrapped a piece of gum, balled the wrapper and tossed it in the direction of the bin.

  ‘I wouldn’t choose to go to Thailand myself. Don’t fancy the food much.’

  ‘I thought you liked all food,’ she retorted.

  ‘I like stuff that fills you up. I don’t think lemongrass soup and noodles or whatever they serve will do that for me.’

  ‘Might be a great diet for you. Low in calories. High in nutritious goodies. I ought to pass a few recipes to Jeanette for her to test out on you.’

  ‘You do and I’ll make you trail boring Bob for the next few nights until you start back at the station.’

  ‘You having no luck either?’

&n
bsp; ‘If Bob is having an affair then I’ll be very surprised. He’s so squeaky clean I half expect him to suddenly put on a dog collar and go to church.’

  ‘Most women have good instincts. If his wife thinks he’s having an affair then it’s likely he is. You need to keep an eye on him. She’s paying you for your time so at least you aren’t wasting it.’

  ‘I feel like I am. Last night he went to the cinema with one of his mates from the pub. Hardly bonking the night away, is he?’

  Robyn chuckled. She scrolled through news items about Paul Matthews as Ross spoke, half-listening to his complaints about spending another night in his car while Bob ate popcorn. Paul Matthews had indeed been an attractive man. She could see where Lucas got his looks. Paul had enjoyed a rise in popularity in the nineties, playing the role of a doctor in a soap opera before he was snapped up by a film studio to play the lead role in a film adaptation of a bonkbuster.

  ‘He didn’t give up acting when his wife passed away,’ said Robyn, speed-reading the information. ‘It was four years later, in 2000. That seems odd. Why would he suddenly drop out of a lucrative career and become reclusive?’

  ‘Drugs?’

  ‘Possibly so. However, he jogged regularly so that suggests he looked after his health. Though I won’t rule out anything at this stage.’

  ‘Another woman?’

  ‘Doesn’t seem to have been a second Mrs Matthews. There was someone for a while. I’ve discovered some photographs of her from one of the national newspapers.’

  She angled the screen so Ross could see. He whistled. ‘Now, she’s hot.’

  The photograph was from an awards ceremony and showed a suave Paul Matthews in evening dress smiling broadly at the camera. Beside him stood a willowy blonde wearing an evening dress that clung to her shapely body. She radiated elegance with her hair neatly folded in a classic French plait. Her manicured red nails clutched a designer handbag and her flawless skin had been expertly made-up. On her wrist dangled an expensive bracelet made of crystals that caught the light and sparkled. Her large grey eyes were fringed with eyelashes almost impossibly long to be her own and her lips were plump, sexy with a tinge of wanton about them. It was little wonder Paul had his arm hooked through hers and looked content.

  ‘A babe,’ said Ross, still studying the photo. ‘I guess she’s no longer his girlfriend. Christina Forman,’ he added, reading aloud the name under the picture. ‘Says here she’s his fiancée.’

  ‘Paul lived alone. He wasn’t married. I’ll follow it up. Christina might be able to tell me something about Lucas. There’s more to him than meets the eye. Nick, Lucas’s head of department, mentioned the look on Lucas’s face when he saw him in the hotel lobby with the lady boy. He described it as “lust and cruelty mixed – primeval”. It shocked Nick. There’s another side to Lucas for sure. And then there was the easy way he lied to get out of being with the Devlins. He also fibbed to his wife although I can’t work out why. And there are the photographs of young girls in school uniforms on his computer and even though there was nothing pornographic about them, I’m going to have him looked into by the paedophile squad. I’m worried that this is going to prove to be more than a missing-person inquiry. Sorry, Ross, but I’m taking this case over in an official capacity.’

  ‘I thought you weren’t starting back until next week.’

  ‘I spoke to DCI Mulholland late last night and asked her to let me start earlier and run with this. She agreed, so I’m the officer in charge as of today. I’ll keep you informed though.’

  * * *

  She recalled her brief conversation with Louisa Mulholland, her boss, who had sounded more stressed than usual. ‘I’m happy for you to return to work as soon as you can,’ Louisa said. ‘We could do with you back. I don’t have many officers who can assist but I’ll allow PC Mitz Patel to work on this as long as he stays at or close to headquarters. We will need to use him too. And you can have our newbie PC Anna Shamash, but be gentle with her; she’s learning the ropes and I don’t want her picking up any bad habits. We’ll be short-handed if we put anyone else on this with you. Operation Goofy is taking up all our manpower at the moment.’

  ‘That’s fine. I won’t need much assistance and if it’s okay with you, I’ll use ex-DI Ross Cunningham to help if it gets tough.’

  Louisa Mulholland had no favourites but Ross had always managed to crack a smile when he had been part of the team.

  ‘Good idea. He’s a useful man to know. I trust you’ll be adhering to protocols on this, DI Carter.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good.’

  They both knew she was referring to Robyn’s sudden impulses that often led her to chase off at a tangent.

  ‘I’ll play by the book, ma’am.’

  * * *

  ‘How is Louisa? She keeping all the minions in order?’ Ross grinned.

  Robyn thought back to when she left the force and her conversation with the chief inspector. A slight woman, she looked more like a secretary than a high-ranking policewoman. Louisa Mulholland was in her late fifties, widowed and dedicated to her job and those she worked with. Her door was always open for those who needed her. When Robyn had stumbled through to hand in her notice, Louisa had shut the door to the office. She had moved to sit next to Robyn, and when Robyn had broken down in tears she had comforted her. Finally, they had talked. Louisa had gazed at Robyn intently with friendly, olive-green eyes.

  ‘You’ll be back, Robyn,’ she had said. ‘You’ve had a dreadful time but you’ll be back and I’ll be the first to welcome you when you return. Do what you need to do. Grieve. Cry. Howl. Scream. Kick walls. I did all of those things when I lost my husband, Graham, but after a few months alone in the house, I realised the only important thing left was this station, the team who work tirelessly and this job. We are all here because we want a better place to live – one where there aren’t so many scumbags on the streets. And this is where you belong. You believe in better too.’

  Louisa was right. Robyn belonged on the force. And all the months she had cried herself to sleep, she thought of solemn-faced Louisa who believed in justice and who had never given up.

  ‘Louisa managed to keep you in order so I’m sure she can handle anyone after that.’

  ‘She’s one of a kind. Send her my love, won’t you? Some days, I wish I were back there too. It gets lonely here in this office. It’s been good having you help out. Anyway, I’ll stick to the mundane stuff but let me know if I can help at all with this case. You still have a private investigator’s licence so you are very welcome to work out of this office whenever you want.’

  She looked over at him and grinned. ‘Thanks. I might just need you. I’ve been off duty for a year. I’m probably a bit rusty.’

  ‘Yeah, and I’m the Queen’s official corgi walker.’

  Robyn scrolled through the pages about Paul Matthews and sighed.

  ‘So, what do you know?’

  ‘There’s not much here. Paul kept his family life private. There are a couple of photographs of him and his wife, Linda, before she died. Nice-looking lady. She was a dancer – performed under her maiden name – Bridges. Look, there’s one of her and probably Lucas on the beach with Paul.’

  Ross scooted forward and squinted at the picture. ‘Who’s the little kid beside them with a bucket on their head?’

  ‘Hang on, I’ll drag down the actual article. It’s from a local paper.’ She read the report out:

  Paul Matthews took a few hours off filming from popular drama Doctor Pippin to join his family in Scarborough. With his wife Linda Bridges, 32, and children Lucas, 10, and Natasha, 8, Paul enjoyed an afternoon sunbathing in temperatures of 26 degrees. Paul Matthews said, ‘Who wants to head off to Spain when we have beautiful summer temperatures like these? Scarborough is much more fun than Benidorm. We have super beaches, delicious rock and the best donkey rides.

  Robyn halted and tapped the screen. ‘Lucas has a sister. Nobody’s mentioned her to me. I’ll h
ave to find out more about Natasha Matthews.’

  ‘When did his wife pass away, again?’

  ‘The following year, in 1996. Lucas would have been eleven then. Paul took it badly, had a mini breakdown and packed Lucas off to boarding school. Wonder if he did the same to Natasha. Bet he did. Poor buggers. They lost more than their mum. I don’t know why parents do that. I couldn’t bear to let any son or daughter of mine go away.’

  Ross threw her an uneasy look but Robyn was focused on searching for more information about Lucas Matthews, his sister Natasha and fiancée Christina Forman.

  At last she spoke. ‘Nothing on Natasha Matthews. That’s weird. Got some stuff on Christina Forman. Christina was definitely his fiancée. In July 2000 they were engaged but there was no wedding. I can’t find any records of one taking place and in the autumn of that year, Paul Matthews turned down the biggest role of his career and dropped off the scene. The only other news items I can find are of him hiding his face as he goes jogging, or of his house. So, what happened to the fiancée? Where are you, Christina, and can you help me?’ Robyn stared at the screen for a little longer before putting the name into a search engine. Then she tried social media websites: Twitter, Facebook and LinkedIn. She frowned. ‘Nothing. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy.’

  ‘Robert isn’t easy either. Still, I’ll catch him at some stage. Sooner or later he’s going to make a mistake and I’ll be waiting. They all make mistakes in the end.’

  Ross was right. They all made mistakes in the end and she would find Lucas.

  An alarm beeped on her phone to remind her she had an appointment. This was something she couldn’t put off so she shut down her computer and steeled herself. She had a little girl to visit.