Silent Cry

Chapter 5

Gaby

Friday 27 December, 8.45 a.m. Swansea Police Station

‘DI Walker, if you have a minute. I’d like a word about the Grant case,’ Gaby said, as soon as she spotted him heading towards the coffee pot in the squad room.

‘Certainly, let’s go into one of the interview rooms. The downside of an open-plan office.’

Arriving for the first day in a new job straight after Christmas had to be the worst possible of starts. She’d only made it back to her flat late last night after a morning travelling back from Liverpool. In fact, it would have been better all round for everyone if she’d given Christmas a miss but that was something her mother would never have allowed. She might be the largest of disappointments but her presence was still demanded in the family home despite her mother’s thin mouth and harsh words.

She felt sick with apprehension. This was meant to be a new start, another one, and yet she was about to do the one thing she’d promised she wouldn’t. She was about to interfere.

‘Call me Rhys, just not when the guv is in earshot. What is it, er – Gaby? Unusual name, by the way.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ she said with a smile. ‘It’s short for Gabriella, after my Italian grandmother.’

‘Indeed. Well, Gabriella Darin, what nugget of wisdom do you have to impart?’

He pushed the door open and gestured for her to enter first. She could feel his gaze wandering over her plain grey jacket and skirt and down to her feet, laced into sensible low-heeled shoes and she tried not to show that she’d noticed. Instead, she gritted her teeth and bit back a snappy comment. This was her new boss after all and it would serve her well if, just for once, she managed to keep her mouth shut.

‘Take a seat, Gaby.’ Rhys pulled out a chair and waited until she'd sat down.

‘Well, sir – Rhys. When I heard you speaking with the boss about the Grant case, I decided to look it up and—’

‘And solve what’s had the whole of the force, from John O’Groats to Land’s End, stumped for years?’ he said, his voice dry.

She parked her face in neutral before replying. ‘It’s not that.’ She chose her next words carefully. ‘Why did no one think to suspect the mother? Surely she has to be the prime suspect?’

‘Simply because she didn’t do it.’

‘But how could you know that? She had the best motive after all.’

‘And that motive was?’

‘Why, jealousy, of course,’ she said, on a roll. ‘She finds out her boyfriend, a boyfriend she’s only been with a few months, has been bonking her best friend, leaving her all alone to cope with a newborn.’

His eyes wavered, drifting down to the empty table and she just knew he was going to palm her off with some sort of hogwash drivel. She pressed her lips together and waited, her fingers curling into her palms.

‘Look, I appreciate your enthusiasm and all that but you weren’t on the case from day one. You didn’t have to witness the loss of hope on her face when we turned up at her door. You weren’t involved in the hours upon hours of legwork as we followed up on every lead, however tenuous. We turned over every stone within a ten-mile radius and didn’t find even one measly clue as to their whereabouts. He’s abroad by now, probably in some South American country where we’ll never find them.’

‘Or dead?’

He paused, his eyes trained on the wall behind her head, before he brought his gaze back to meet hers. ‘Yes, of course. Or dead. I’m surprised you opted for jealousy as the motive, Gaby. Why not something juicy, like a crime of passion?’

She ignored that. After all, the odds were she’d read the same crime psychology books as him. There was a wealth of reasons why people went on to commit murder: passion, greed, revenge, jealousy, anger. In this type of case, jealousy was statistically the most likely, something he would have known, so any reply on her part was irrelevant.

‘What about the card then?’

He steepled his fingers under his chin. ‘You have been busy. What do you know about the card … er … Gaby?’

‘She found it thrust under her door that first day – the card that engineered one of the largest police hunts Wales has seen in years, a police hunt that turned up zilch.’ She settled back in the chair, her legs tucked underneath, her expression expectant.

‘Look, you’re new here and keen as they come but I know she didn’t do it. Parental abduction is such a heinous crime but for it to happen to a newborn was virtually unheard of. It’s still unheard of. We carried out the investigation by the book. No.’ He brushed his hand across his face, presumably marshalling his thoughts. ‘We had no book to follow. We wrote the book on parental abduction of a newborn. We covered every angle …’

He paused for breath. ‘Now that we have Grace Madden back on the scene we’re going to bloody well search for her until we find her. We tried the last time and failed.’ He stared into the distance a moment, a frown appearing. ‘We couldn’t even find the husband and Geraint Madden is a whole lot more unusual a name than Grace. When we’ve found them we’ll have another think. Detective work is a little like being given a jigsaw puzzle for Christmas only to find that, when you open the box, the manufacturer has forgotten to give you any of the pieces. The clues drop out of the sky in a random snow-shower. There’s no pattern. No uniformity. Up until now we’ve had nothing to go on other than the most valuable commodity of all. A copper’s instinct.’

She watched him push himself up from the chair and shove his car keys in his pocket. Suddenly she was disappointed in him. She didn’t know why.

‘Come on. I’ll introduce you to the team.’ He hesitated, his eyes locking with hers and she could almost see the dark of his pupil dilating under her gaze. ‘I’m not going to beat around any bushes, Gaby. Life isn’t perfect, and a squad room is less perfect than most places. I can’t fight your battles for you. But whatever happens outside of this room, do me two favours; keep your chin up and keep me informed.’

‘Morning everyone. This is DC Gabriella Darin, newly transferred from Swansea. I’m sure you’ll all wish her a great big Welsh welcome,’ Rhys said, strolling to the front of the room to join DCI Brazil-North.

The squad room was crowded but then it was 9 a.m. after a two-day break. Everyone was scrambling around for a place to sit before the morning briefing, but no one paused to even look in her direction let alone offer her a smile. She scanned the sea of faces in their various forms. These were her colleagues, the ones meant to watch her back. These were the people she was meant to trust with her life. If they were anything like the lot in Cardiff she wasn’t even going to be able to trust them with a smile. Instead, she bit down hard on her lower lip, the dull, metallic taste of blood a welcome distraction. She’d thought Cardiff was bad, but they’d liked her at the start. It was only after, when they’d found out about— she shook her head. Cardiff was in her past and that was where she intended to keep it.

Her gaze slid to the far corner and the shy smile focused in her direction, and she took it in the same way a drowning man gasps for breath. Squaring her shoulders, she managed to catch the woman’s eye, just to confirm that the smile was meant for her, before crossing the room, well aware of all eyes following her progress.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey back. I’m Amy, Amy Potter, the family liaison officer. Pull up a chair and take the weight off.’

‘Thanks, everyone calls me Gaby,’ she said, looking at the slim, youthful blonde before quickly twisting in her chair to check out the other members of the team.

There were twelve in total, mostly men and all doing a fair job at not looking her in the eye. She was good at her job, bloody good, something they’d learn the hard way.

Amy leant forward, placing a hand on her arm. ‘Don’t mind this lot of Neanderthals. They’ll come around after they’ve gotten used to you.’ She pulled her hand back, her eyes now facing front, before whispering under her breath. ‘Shush. Brazil-North doesn’t take any prisoners.’

‘When you’re quite ready, DS Potter, DI Walker would like to update you on the Grant case.’

A collective groan spread across the room only to stop abruptly at the sound of the DCI banging the heel of her hand against the table.

‘I know we’ve been here before, many times. But there’s a new development. Over to you, Rhys.’

His gaze wandered over each and every one of them before finally starting to speak, his brow wrinkled. ‘There’s been a new sighting of Grace Madden. It’s not likely that a nine months’ pregnant woman would have been involved but there are questions that still need to be answered. We need to discover why she disappeared so soon after Charlie Dawson abducted Baby Grant. You must admit it’s all a bit too convenient. So I’d like to hear some ideas as to why Madden should suddenly turn up in Swansea?’

‘What about shopping?’ a large man standing at the back shouted, causing the room to erupt into laughter.

‘Very funny, Bill. To buy what exactly? If you don’t fancy a trip to the Quadrant Shopping Centre then I suggest you shut it.’ He scanned the room again before continuing, ‘I’m as fed up as you are that, after five years, we’re still no further forward in knowing what happened to the pair of them. So, why after so long would the friend suddenly appear on the scene or is it a harmless coincidence? There’s always been that unanswered question of whether Dawson was having an affair and if so, who with? It’s something we’ve been unable to either prove or otherwise. And what about Madden’s child? He or she’d be about the same age as Alys Grant by now.’

‘So, that’s school age. I’ll do a quick trawl of the local schools and nurseries to see if anything gets spat out,’ Bill said, probably in an effort to reprieve himself.

‘Good idea. We don’t have the resources to spend too much time on this so just carry on with what you’re doing for now. We’ll catch up on Monday unless there’s any further developments.’ He turned away, making for the door, tilting his head in Gaby’s direction.

‘Good luck,’ Amy whispered into her ear. ‘He looks in a mood. We always thought he had a thing for the mother – this won’t help.’

Gaby nodded her head before threading her way through the chairs, her eyes focused on the door and the back of his broad shoulders.

So he had a thing for Isabelle Grant, did he? Good to know and perhaps useful to the investigation.

She put on a sudden burst of speed to catch him up, her mind carefully shelving that nugget of information for when she had more time to examine it. Her instinct was telling her if they found Grace Madden, Charlie and Alys would be close behind.

Chapter 6

Izzy

Friday 27 December, 9.45 a.m. Abereiddy

Izzy couldn’t settle. There was work to be done. Her website to update and orders to get ready. But instead of entering her workroom she sat in the lounge in front of the fire with her cat on her lap, reluctant to do any of the jobs mounting up. Grace Madden was the key to the mess that was her life. The only problem was she didn’t know what to do about it. She’d passed it on to Rhys but she knew from experience that finding her wouldn’t be a priority for the police. If they couldn’t find her five years ago the trail would be stone cold by now.

It took Bucket jumping down to interrupt where her thoughts were taking her, his deep-amber, unblinking glare trained on her face. Reaching down a hand she dragged it across his back, relishing in the soft silkiness of his fur. Sometimes it felt as if he was her only friend. He was certainly her most loyal. She’d found him hiding in an old bucket within weeks of losing Alys. In those dark days she’d roamed the countryside searching for clues, whatever the weather, and it was like an omen finding him curled up, covered in fleas. He was battle-scarred too with a torn ear and scratched face - who knew what kind of life he’d had to endure before she happened upon him. They were alike, muddling through from day to day. His needs were simple. Plain food and warmth and for that she got more purrs than she could cope with and a warm body to tuck up to at night.

‘All right, boy, I’m coming.’ She followed him into the kitchen and to where he was now staring into his bowl. It was like a personal affront for him to find his food bowl empty. She still couldn’t face the thought of cooking a meal and even had to hold her nose to prevent the smell of fish turning her stomach. Food didn’t interest her in the same way it had during her pregnancy. Her thoughts returned to the size she’d once exploded to – there was nothing like a heavy dose of tragedy to make the pounds slip away. She was thinner now than she’d ever been but no happier. She used to think that the width of her waist and the breadth of her hips were in direct correlation to her happiness, but it hadn’t worked out like that. All those months obsessing about her weight … She’d been at her fattest when she’d been with Charlie and yet he’d said he loved her for her pretty smile and sparkling eyes – well, that’s what he used to tell her. Now she struggled to remember those glossy shiny words. She certainly didn’t believe them.

She wandered back into the lounge, placing a fresh drink on the coffee table before adding a couple of logs to the wood burner and sitting in her favourite chair. There had to be a way to find Grace.

Chapter 7

Izzy

Five years ago

Izzy pulled back her wardrobe door, sweeping a hand at the array of misshapen T-shirts, leggings and granny cardigans neatly lined up.

‘I’ve got nothing to wear and I so want to look my best,’ she moaned, pulling at the T-shirt that only half covered her belly before glancing across at her friend’s neat little bump.

Grace patted her hand. ‘It won’t be for much longer. Only one week to go and it could be early,’ she said, arching her left eyebrow. ‘What about your maternity jeans and that pretty blue blouse with the embroidery around the neck?’ She drew out the hangers and held them up for inspection.

‘I suppose they’ll do,’ Izzy said, placing her hands to her lower back and stretching.

‘Have you been having any more pain than usual? That’s normally the first sign.’

‘Only after last night’s curry,’ she said with a grin. ‘Dad does a wicked chicken vindaloo.’

‘What, with chips on the side?’ Grace teased.

Izzy smiled back where before she’d have taken it to heart but Grace was different. She’d only known her a few weeks but in that time she’d become one of her best friends, if not the best. Charlie continued to refuse to attend parenting classes, but it didn’t matter so much now she knew that Grace would be there. Life seemed to be settling down into a pattern and one she wasn’t unhappy with. Charlie had managed to surprise her by picking up a job. It wasn’t much, just manning the pumps at the local petrol station, but it was a start. There was now a spring in his step and that morning he’d even swung her around in the kitchen before planting a big kiss against her mouth, just like he’d used to in the early days.

‘I’m taking my two best girls out for a slap-up meal tonight as it’s payday,’ he said, bending down and pressing a kiss against her belly.

‘You daft thing.’ But she was secretly pleased, more than pleased. She’d thought they were floating, drifting apart at a time when she needed him more than ever but apparently not. Maybe there was hope for them yet.

She smiled again, a slow lingering smile that must have highlighted her happiness because Grace paused, her eyes scanning her face with a frown, any trace of laughter now wiped clean.

‘What?’

‘I’m not sure whether I should tell you.’

‘Tell me what?’ Izzy picked up her mug and took a sip, all her attention focused on the woman opposite. Grace obviously had something she was determined to tell her, something she wasn’t going to like.

‘If you knew something, something important about someone … something that might cause them distress, what would you do, knowing full well it could be the end of their friendship?’

Izzy dropped her gaze and took a moment to place her mug on the bedtable, careful to push it away from the edge before finally raising her head. She had no need to explain who she was talking about because of course she was talking about her. Something that could ruin their friendship – it must be something to do with Charlie.

‘Just tell me.’

‘If you’re sure you’re willing to hear?’

‘You can’t start something and not finish it,’ she snapped, wanting to get whatever Grace had to say out into the open so she could deal with it. She shifted her hand to her belly, smoothing her palm across the taut bump, the discomfort from yesterday starting up again with a vengeance. Perhaps she should phone the midwife but first she needed to hear what Grace had to say.

‘You know I had to go into Swansea yesterday?’

‘Yes, you said already.’

‘Well …’ She brushed her hair back with a restless hand. ‘I decided to pop into one of the cafés along the Waterfront and Charlie was there.’

Now she had her attention, all of it. Her gaze shifted from her hand to Grace’s face, all thought of her belly ache pushed to the corner of her mind. ‘Charlie? My Charlie? But you’ve never met him. How would you—?’

‘Remember you showed me his photo on your phone. It’s a good likeness.’

‘You must be mistaken.’ She sank down on to the side of the bed. ‘He left early to work at the garage—’

‘Okay. Sorry, but I was so sure, the man I saw even had a birthmark in the centre of his cheek … Maybe it was just someone that looked like him,’ she said, picking up her mug and taking a deep sip.

Izzy felt the colour drain from her face and the room start to spin. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think and suddenly the burning pain she’d been feeling since last night surged, causing her to clutch at her belly. There was more, of course there was, and she steeled herself, her nails digging deep into her palms, her breath coming out in a long gasp.

‘Go on.’

‘I don’t get it?’ Grace’s eyes widened.

‘Tell me the rest then.’

‘Izzy, I—’

‘Tell me the rest, goddammit or I’ll ring him up and ask him.’

Grace swallowed hard, her eyes wavering but Izzy had no sympathy. Her so-called best friend was about to smash her fairy tale into smithereens. It wasn’t much of a fairy tale but, at least it was hers. It was all she had. It was all she’d ever wanted, her hand instinctively gripping the side of the mattress as another wave of pain wracked though her body.

‘He was with a woman.’

‘Is that all?’ she said, letting air seep out of her lungs. ‘He has loads of female friends. They all hang around in a crowd. Just because—’

‘Listen Izzy, he was all over her like a rash. It was embarrassing. In the end the waitress had to come over and ask them to leave.’

She stared back, her mouth slightly open. Why would Grace do this to her? She’d thought her a friend, her best friend. A kindred spirit if you like. But now it was as if the blinkers had fallen away and she was seeing Grace for the very first time and she didn’t like what she saw. Why tell her now about Charlie? Just what was she trying to achieve?

Bracing her hands on the bed she pushed herself to standing. She had to get out of the room or she’d scream. She’d scream and never stop. But something was wrong, very wrong as the spasm of pain intensified. She closed her eyes briefly before opening them and staring across at the woman she could barely recognise.

‘What is it, Izzy? What’s wrong?’

Chapter 8

Izzy

Friday 27 December, 10.00 a.m. Abereiddy

She blinked rapidly, running that last conversation over in the quiet of her mind. She needed to think about the one thing that was bothering her.

The birthmark.

Her forehead pleated as she struggled to think. She remembered telling the police about Grace’s insistence that Charlie was having an affair. That was one of the things that had instigated them trying to find her. But had she ever told them about the birthmark? She knew there’d been something that hadn’t made sense at the time, but she couldn’t work it out and she’d quickly forgotten under the weight of everything else. Her waters breaking. The frantic rush to hospital. The long, drawn-out labour culminating in an emergency caesarean section.

The issue of how Grace had recognised Charlie from a photograph she’d only glimpsed months before, a photograph that hadn’t included his defining feature, was swept away on a tidal wave of pain, joy and then deceit. The birthmark wasn’t big or anything. In fact, she’d thought it cute. It was an integral part of him which she loved along with his cheeky smile and twinkly blue eyes. But Charlie had hated it with a passion. He’d even considered having it removed when he had enough money to pay for the surgery. He was always insistent that any photos had to be taken from what he termed his good side – she knew from experience that he’d only delete any snaps where it featured.