The Attic Room: A psychological thriller (20 page)

The numbness was returning, replacing pain with blessed
nothingness, though Nina knew if suffering would bring her girl back, she would
take it all. She grasped the handle of her suitcase. ‘Let’s go to yours. And I
should phone Beth. And Naomi’s Dad. But first I want to call David; there might
be more news.’

Unlikely, in the forty-five minutes since she’d seen him
last, or he’d have phoned and told them. But David was all the contact she had
to Naomi at the moment, and oh, what a frail thread of contact it was.

Sam handed over his mobile, and she called David on the way
to Sam’s flat.

‘Nothing yet. We’ve got dogs out in the areas you were taken
to,’ he told her. ‘Mrs Harrison gave us Naomi’s nightgown for the scent. Rest
up for the moment, Nina. I’ll call you back in an hour or so.’

Sam’s flat was comfortable and modern, an enormous blue
L-shaped sofa dominating the living room, and crammed bookshelves round two
walls. Nina sank into the sofa, dread weighing her into the cushions. Thoughts
of Naomi were circling round her head in a quite unbearable spiral; but she had
to bear it because, oh fuck – she had caused it. She had caused whatever was
happening to her child today.

Why the hell had none of Paul’s teachers or social workers seen
that he wasn’t normal? The abuse he’d suffered as a child must have unhinged
him, but no one had helped him, and heaven knows how long he’d been like this.
Nina shivered. She must have been affected too, how afraid she would have been,
a poor little wide-eyed three-year-old who didn’t understand what was happening
to her. Incredible to think she’d managed to block out something as momentous
as sexual abuse. She had no memories of it – how had she been abused, and how
often, and by how many people?

A lump rose in Nina’s throat. Claire had told Morag that
John Moore had been ‘hitting them both around’. Had Claire known about the
sexual abuse and simply not told Morag? It didn’t sound like Claire, and she
and Morag were such good friends. So either Claire knew nothing or… the thought
was like a sudden breeze of fresh air…

…or little Nina hadn’t been abused. Was that possible?

Fighting the weakness that was still threatening to overcome
her, Nina thought about her three-year-old self. According to what she knew,
she’d been a talkative, confiding child. Wouldn’t she have spoken about it to
Claire, or Lily, if anything bad had happened to her? And as paedophiles
normally abused either boys or girls, but not both, it was actually unlikely
that both she and Paul were victims of any one group of abusers.

The one thing Nina was sure of was that Paul had been
abused. He couldn’t have lied about that so convincingly. She’d seen all the
way into his soul, that night he told her about it. So if Paul had lied about
her being abused, he’d done it to scare her away and leave him in peace to
continue his revenge scheme. The blackmail letters and the calls hadn’t worked,
so he’d notched up the horror-programme for her.

Nina sobbed aloud. There was no way to know, but surely,
surely, Claire would have intervened if she’d known that Paul was being abused?

Sam appeared from the kitchen with a glass of orange juice
and a sliced banana on a plate.

‘Eat,’ he said briefly. ‘I’ll phone Mum and tell her you’re
here.’

He left her alone, and Nina managed two pieces of banana and
a sip of juice before pushing the plate away. Was Sam on his landline? She
wanted to phone Bethany.

He came back and gave her the handset almost as if he had
heard her thought.

‘Mum’s coming up later,’ he said. ‘She’s in a bit of a
state; she feels it’s her fault.’

‘It’s not,’ said Nina, her voice thick. ‘He would have got
Naomi even if she hadn’t been outside. I’m sure he had plenty of tricks ready.
Look how he got me into his car – false bombs and everything. He was so
convincing, Sam – it’s my fault, not Cassie’s.’

And if anything happened to Naomi today Nina knew she would
blame herself for the rest of her life.

Sam patted her shoulder. ‘I’ll leave you to call Beth. Eat
that banana, Nina, it’ll give you energy.’

As soon as she heard Beth’s voice Nina dissolved into tears,
and it was a few minutes before she was able to talk coherently. Beth was
horrified, and for more long minutes all they could do was cry together.

When she ended the call Sam came back and sat beside her on
the sofa. Nina sipped her juice, her teeth chattering against the rim of the
glass.

‘This is like waiting for Mum to die,’ she said. ‘She was in
a coma for days. I was pumped full of adrenalin all the time, ready to cope
with her death. I hardly slept. And now – it’s the same kind of feeling again.
Sheer horror and nothing to do but wait.’

Sam put an arm round her and Nina closed her eyes. When
would she be able to hold Naomi in her arms? Dear God, she’d known about the
paedophilia but she still allowed her only child to come and be a part of it
all. She’d been the worst possible kind of mother to her little girl. If only…
if only she’d never heard of John Moore, never come to Bedford, and never
inherited all that blood money.

In and out, in and out, there was nothing to do except
breathe and wait for news to come.

Thursday 27th July

Nina slept fitfully on Sam’s spare bed that night, fully
clothed in case the police called and she could rush to Naomi. Going to bed when
there was still no news of her child was horrendous, but she was so tired… She’d
phoned Alan, who was distraught but decided to wait in South Africa in the
meantime. Nina could almost understand this, after all, she and Alan would draw
little comfort from each other’s presence and the journey from Cape Town was
over twelve hours even after the plane took off, and dear God surely Naomi
would be found by that time. But it was another rather chilling reminder that
she was the only ‘close’ family her child had.

David Mallony called shortly before midnight to report they
would continue door to door inquiries the next day, but in his opinion Paul had
taken Naomi somewhere else.

‘This wasn’t how he’d planned things; he’ll need time to
re-think,’ he said. ‘We’ll put out an appeal tomorrow, Nina. Can you get us a
recent photo of Naomi? You won’t have to speak; we know who has Naomi so all we
need is a police appeal to the public to keep their eyes open. And of course
all the airports and ports are already alerted. He won’t get her out of the
country but I don’t for a minute imagine he’s trying to. He’ll be holed up
somewhere making new plans.’

Nina’s sleep was broken, full of dark, frightening dreams.
Every so often she jerked awake, heart racing, only to fall back into uneasy
sleep. Dismal visions of Glen and Cassie and Emily, all shouting ‘help, help’,
chased no less fearsome dreams of Claire and her bruised and broken face. Nina
awoke at six with tears on her cheeks and knew she wouldn’t sleep again.

There was silence from Sam’s room as she crept past to the
phone and punched out the number of the police station, only to be told there
was no news but the search parties were already out again in the estates. Nina
stood by the kitchen window, forcing back panic. It was a beautiful morning;
brilliant sunshine mocked her as it sparkled on the chrome sink. Inside she
felt as dark and oppressive as it was possible to feel, and that wasn’t going
to change until she had her girl back. Today, please, that must happen today.

She showered mechanically, breathing deeply as the piping
hot water flowed over her weary muscles and feeling about a hundred and fifty.
Were old people like Emily tired and sore like this all the time? It was a
horrible, draining feeling.

Emily… Emily had said quite a lot about Paul. But… Nina
stood still, remembering. She’d missed part of it. For a few moments in the
middle of the conversation she’d been thinking about something else, hadn’t
she, yes – the names on the list. She’d missed some detail about Paul. Emily
had a phone in her bungalow, but quarter past six was much too early to call.
Nina pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. She would wait till seven and phone the
home, ask someone to check if Emily was up. And later she and Sam could go to The
Elms. Her great-aunt might know something about Paul that would help find
Naomi. Nina shivered. Talking to Emily was the only bloody thing she could do.
The police weren’t going to let her and Sam go out and search housing estates,
but no way could she sit around all day and wait. She had to do something to
help find her child.

Sam still hadn’t surfaced, so Nina booted up his computer.
Beth had e-mailed two photos for the police appeal. Taken a couple of weeks
ago, one showed Naomi laughing as she played with Fifi the farmhouse cat, and
the other a more earnest Naomi doing a jigsaw on a rainy afternoon. Nina sent
them on to the police station, then sat sobbing over the keyboard. Naomi had
been missing for twenty-four hours; the ‘golden hours’ were long gone.

‘Hey, come on. Come here.’ Sam was beside her, gathering her
into his arms.

Thank Christ Sam was here. She wouldn’t have managed any of
this without him. Nina told him about her feeling that Emily might have
mentioned something about Paul.

‘Good thinking,’ he said. ‘And that goes with something that
occurred to me in the night. You should take every one of those photos to show
Emily, because one of them might remind her of something that could help.’

‘Hell, Sam, there’s hundreds of them. Do you think she’ll be
able to get through them all?’

‘I’m sure she’ll give it her best. It means telling her what’s
happened, but you have to do that now anyway.’

Nina pictured Emily’s kind old face and the lump in her
throat grew again.

‘I need a mobile,’ she said dully. ‘I need to have a number
for the police and Beth and Alan and – in case anyone has to contact me.’

Another thought struck her and she winced. ‘Oh God, I don’t
know anyone’s number any more…’

‘You can borrow my old mobile,’ said Sam. ‘If you send everyone
on your email address list a mail with the new number they can get back to you
with theirs.’

He produced the phone, and Nina wrote her email and sat
clicking through her address book. She arrived at Claire’s address and burst
into sudden, shocking sobs. She would never send Claire another email.

‘Dear God, Sam – why, why, why didn’t Mum tell me about John
Moore? None of this would have happened if I’d known.’

‘She couldn’t have known what he was,’ said Sam.

Nina closed her eyes. She would never understand it. How on
earth had Claire managed not to know what her husband was? It didn’t seem
possible.

Sam was watching her face. ‘Do you believe she was doing
what she thought was best?’

‘Yes.’ It was a gut reaction. There was no way she could
doubt Claire’s intentions.

David Mallony was out at one of the estates, but his
sergeant broke the seal on John Moore’s door for Nina and Sam. He told them
Sabine was still critical in the intensive care unit, and Nina felt her face
blanch. Paul had injured Sabine to this extent before he’d lost it so
completely. Now he’d be capable of even more craziness and violence…

The sergeant also showed them the text of the appeal due to
go out on TV and online that morning. It was short, simply asking for
information about Naomi, who was ‘with a distant relative in need of medical
attention’. Nina read it, her lips pressed together hard. How many times had
she seen a similar appeal and thought vaguely that at least the child concerned
was with a relative? She’d had no idea. She swept the photos into a plastic bag
and almost ran from the house.

At nine-thirty they were parking under the big tree at The
Elms. Emily was waiting, the coffee table cleared in anticipation of the
photos. She put her arms round Nina, patting her back in a frail, old ladyish
way, and Nina only just managed not to cry again.

‘Oh Emily. We need to know everything you can tell us about
Paul, please. We don’t know enough to find him and Naomi. And I think you said
something last time but I can’t remember what it was.’

Emily sat back. ‘He was a strange child,’ she said frankly. ‘A
sweet little boy, but as he grew older he became wild and distant. His mother
was a nice girl when she was sober but she was an alcoholic, poor thing. I didn’t
see much of Paul after you and your mother left. That broke up the family;
there weren’t many Sunday lunch parties after that and I was too busy with my
own life to worry about Paul. Then later his parents split up. He was sent to
boarding school, I’m not sure when. After Jane’s death, I think.’

‘I see,’ said Nina. ‘We didn’t know that; he skated over it
when he was talking to me and later he clammed up when Sabine asked him. Do you
know why he was sent there? Was it because there was no one to take care of him
or - ’

She broke off. Emily was frowning and shaking her head.

‘Well, there was that too, but I rather think there was
something more. I remember shortly before Jane died – Paul must have been
eleven or twelve – she had him at some kind of nerve doctor, a psychiatrist, I
suppose. I think he was having problems at school, and I always assumed it was
because of Jane’s alcoholism.’

‘A psychiatrist,’ said Sam, sitting straighter. ‘Jeez, Nina,
that explains a lot. Childhood trauma can cause… um…’

Nina gave him a warning look. Emily still knew nothing about
the paedophilia or the abuse, they should break the news gently. She soon saw
that she had underestimated her great-aunt.

‘Young man, you’re talking in riddles,’ said Emily, frowning
at him. ‘What trauma do you think caused Paul’s problems?’

Nina glanced at Sam and took Emily’s hand. It was time to
tell the truth.

‘It seems his father and others abused him sexually when he
was a young boy,’ she said, hearing the tremble in her voice. ‘At least Paul
says they did, and at the moment it appears to be true. I’m sorry, Emily. There
were paedophilic images on John Moore’s computer, too.’

Emily sat still, then gave a sigh. ‘There is such wickedness
in the world. All you can do is hope you never come across it,’ she said
softly. ‘And now we have. My own sister’s boy. And your father.’ She reached
towards a box of tissues on the coffee table, her hand shaking visibly. Nina
was unable to keep her own tears back, and for a moment they both sat wiping
their eyes.

Emily tucked her tissue into her sleeve. ‘The important
thing is to get your Naomi back. We can deal with Paul later. He needs help.’

Sam unpacked the photos, and Emily fetched her powerful
magnifying glass. Nina sat beside her making a list, as she had done with Paul.
Come to think of it, Paul hadn’t been happy doing this, so maybe there was
something on one of the photos. He’d been very interested in the non-people
ones too, so it was important to look at them all.

Nina had filled three pages of her notebook when Emily
wilted. Alarmed at her aunt’s pale face, Nina rang the buzzer for the warden.

‘Yes, that’s quite enough for the moment,’ said the woman,
helping Emily to her feet. ‘Come on, Emily love, you can lie on your bed and
rest for an hour or two.’

‘I want to go on. We might find something important,’
protested Emily, and Nina squeezed her hand.

‘I’ll leave the photos and the pad,’ she said. ‘If you’re up
to it later you can carry on yourself, and we’ll phone this afternoon anyway to
see how you are. But don’t make yourself ill, Emily. You’ve been a great help,
thank you so much.’

The mobile Sam had lent Nina trilled out its sea shanty
ring tone when they were on the way back to Bedford, and she scrabbled in her
pocket for it, her heart pounding. Was this - ?

David Mallony’s voice was grim in her ear. ‘No news yet,
though we’ve ruled out a few places,’ he said tersely. ‘But there’s information
coming in about the Wright family. I won’t tell you on the phone but - ’

‘We’ll be with you in – ten minutes,’ said Nina, glancing
out. And how horrible it was that she’d driven up and down this road so many
times now that she knew within a couple of minutes when they would arrive
anywhere. Her summer should have been on Arran, with Naomi pony-trekking and
running wild along the beach. Not this.

Nina’s breath was catching in her throat as they hurried
into the police station. Information that couldn’t be passed on over the phone
wasn’t going to be good news. And it wasn’t.

‘Paul’s girlfriend doesn’t seem to exist,’ said David
Mallony. ‘That was presumably a ploy to make you feel safe in his company.
Okay, George Wright is currently in Thailand. Colleagues there are out looking
for him but as he’s apparently been there for weeks there’s little doubt he’s
unconnected with what’s been happening here. When they find him we’ll have him
questioned about the abuse Paul’s accusing him and John Moore of. But we can be
fairly sure that Paul himself is our blackmailer this time round. And I’m
afraid that’s the good news.’

‘Shit,’ said Nina. What was coming now? Not the worst news,
because Naomi was still missing – could there be any other bad news?

‘There are paedophilic images on Paul Wright’s computer too,’
said David, his eyes holding hers. ‘Seven in all. Three of them are the worst
grade. Now it could be that Paul was doing what he said, researching the abuse
dished out to him. Many victims do that, so at the moment we have to keep an
open mind about what it means.’

Nina gripped the arms of the chair she was sitting in. Was
Paul a paedophile too? And – worst grade? What did that mean? She tried to
speak but failed, dear God, all she wanted to do was curl into a ball and howl.
No. That was wrong. All she wanted was five minutes with her so-called cousin.
What wouldn’t she be capable of doing to the man who had taken and quite
possibly harmed her daughter. The thought of what might have happened to Naomi
– of what might be happening right this minute – crashed into Nina’s brain and
she choked, fighting for control.

David fetched her a glass of water. ‘Try to stay calm. He
told you he was ‘researching’. At the moment there’s no reason to think he’d be
abusive in that way himself. His former employers have given him a good
character, too. He lost his job through no fault of his own. Don’t imagine the worst
before we know more.’

Nina sat back, feeling the numbness take over again. She
passed on what Emily told them about Paul, then buried her face in her hands.
If Paul intended to use Naomi as bait for the men he was still looking for, God
knows what he would do. Maybe that had been his intention all along, ever since
he’d seen what a beautiful daughter she had. Naomi could be anywhere if that
was the case.

‘And you’re quite sure she’s in this country?’ Sam asked the
question for her.

To Nina’s relief David Mallony was positive about this. ‘Yes,
the ports and airports were alerted as soon as we knew Wright had her. She’s in
the country, and the odds are he hasn’t taken her too far away. The appeal’s
being broadcast regularly, Nina, and people are keen to help in a situation
like this. It’s quite probable we’ll get reported sightings of Naomi all over
the place. We’ll check them all out, but the likelihood that they
are
Naomi is small. So don’t get your hopes up with every
sighting, that would drain you.’