The Girl You Lost: A gripping psychological thriller (26 page)

BOOK: The Girl You Lost: A gripping psychological thriller
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I nod, unsure I can manage any words, but knowing I need to do this.

‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘I’ll be right back.’

Everything moves in slow motion when he comes back outside, a trick my mind is playing to delay the inevitable. And then I am staring at the photo he holds out to me on his phone.

And there is Grace. Helena. Her eyes wide and blank, her body battered and bruised.

Turning away, I lean over and lose the contents of my stomach.

Thirty-Eight

O
ur house feels
quieter than it’s ever felt before. Even though Helena has never lived here with us, we always had the silent hope of finding her one day. And we did, too briefly, but now she has gone and we are once again consumed by our grief.

It is as if we are living that first day again, only worse this time because now there is certainty that we will never see our daughter again. How cruel it is that she was brought back into our lives for only a matter of hours. Our unspoken words to her will remain trapped, never to be heard. We now have finality. Closure. And rather than being any comfort, it’s like being ripped apart.

It’s been two days since I stood on Belsize Avenue, staring at a photo of my daughter’s cold, lifeless body. After seeing her, after those first moments of shock and pain, I was on autopilot, numb, making a mental list of all the things I had to do, the most important of which was visit Ginny.

The police had already informed her before I got to the hospital, and I’m sure she could barely see me through her tears. It was doubtful she could hear me either through her sobs, but I promised her the police didn’t know the truth, that they weren’t going to come for her the second she was well enough to stand.

‘It doesn’t matter anymore,’ she’d managed to say. ‘What have I got left? Grace was everything to me.’

I had to let her have her time, and keep my heavy grief on the inside. We sat in silence for a while, holding hands, alone with our thoughts and memories.

But then she became inconsolable and had to be sedated, so it was time to leave. I told her I would be back, though, and I meant every word. I will not desert this woman.

Now I lie in bed, with Matt beside me, and it is far later than we have ever lain in before. Neither of us is asleep; we just don’t have the energy to face anything yet. Matt knows everything now, including all about Charlotte breaking into the house, and it feels good to no longer be keeping things from him.

I know without him saying a word what is on Matt’s mind, and he confirms this when he says, ‘I wish I’d talked to Helena more that day she was here. Spent more time with her. Now it’s too late.’

I reach for his arm and run my fingers across it. His skin is cold where he’s rested his arm out of the duvet. ‘I feel the same, but we can’t have regrets, Matt. We only did what we thought was right at the time. There was no real evidence, was there? Apart from the rabbit. But like you said, there would have been thousands of those manufactured.’

He shakes his head. ‘But you believed. You never doubted her, did you?’

This is not true. I didn’t believe Grace at first. But the more time I spent with her, the more I just felt
something
. I can’t explain what it was, but I felt that she was Helena. But despite that, I did give up when we went to Cornwall. I tell Matt this, but it does nothing to snap him out of his melancholy. Even my suggestion to cook bacon and eggs has no effect.

Leaving him in bed, I force myself up to make breakfast anyway; I’m not interested in eating it, but cooking distracts me from thoughts of Helena.

Matt comes downstairs when I call him, smelling of deodorant, his hair wet from the shower. ‘I thought I’d better snap out of it,’ he says. ‘This is even worse for you after everything you’ve been through these last couple of weeks so I need to hold it together. Sorry for moping around.’

I serve our breakfast and we both sit at the table, pushing the food around our plates, letting it grow cold. ‘Listen, I was thinking,’ Matt says, placing down his knife and fork. ‘Let’s get out of here. You know the police still haven’t found that lunatic, Nick Gibbs? Well, why don’t we get out of here for a few days? At least until we can feel safe again.’

Although I haven’t forgotten he’s still evading capture, Grace has pushed everything else to the back of my mind. But Matt is right. He could just be biding his time before he comes to finish what he started. And now that the police are after him for murder he’s got nothing to lose. ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘But what about your work? You’ve only just got back from Cornwall.’ My work will be easy enough to sort out, but Matt’s is a lot trickier.

‘I know we can’t tell anyone the truth,’ he says, ‘but I can say there’s been a death in the family and take bereavement leave. I’ll say it’s an aunt or something. Even if I have to take annual leave, I don’t care. We need this time to ourselves.’

I nod my agreement.

‘Remember the other day we talked about seeing Mum?’ Matt continues. ‘I think we should visit her now. She knows nothing of this but the sketchy details I gave her on the phone yesterday and I owe her a face-to-face visit to explain. She still feels responsible for all of it and I think we need to reassure her. Plus it’s been too long since we went there.’

As soon as Matt’s said it, I don’t know why I haven’t thought of it myself. My suggestion about visiting Miriam was quickly forgotten once I saw Helena’s photo. But this is a perfect idea. Miriam lives in a top floor apartment and the whole building is surrounded by security gates. We would at least feel a bit safer there. ‘I just need a few hours to get dressed and pack,’ I say, already feeling better at the thought of getting out of here.

‘And I’m guessing you want to check on Ginny,’ Matt says. Sometimes I forget how well he knows me.

O
n the drive to Luton
, Matt asks how Ginny is doing. There is no easy answer to this. Although when I called the nurse told me she was sleeping, and that she had calmed down, I could sense she didn’t think it would last long.

‘She just needs time, I suppose. Like we all do.’

‘We just have to get through each hour,’ he says, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. ‘Anyway, I still don’t quite know how I feel about the woman, after everything, but I imagine her suffering is awful. She raised Helena for eighteen years.’

W
e reach
Luton by lunchtime and, stepping out of the car, I immediately feel better. Coming here was the right decision. Of course it will be difficult to explain things to Matt’s mum, but the three of us can support each other.

Miriam greets us by the downstairs door and throws her arms around both of us, squeezing tightly. ‘I just … I’m so sorry,’ she says, tears trickling down her cheeks. I have seen so many tears over the last few days I’m not sure I can handle any more.

She leads us inside and we trudge up the stairs, Miriam clinging to Matt’s arm, almost dragging him down with her weight. She was always a slim woman, but in the last few years, her lifestyle of rarely venturing outside has meant she’s piled on too many pounds.

Her flat has been decorated since we were last here, and I compliment her on her choice of colours. She has painted over the bland, neutral walls with a warm yellow shade. I tell her I love what she’s done and she manages a smile.

‘I had to do something to brighten the place up,’ she says. ‘It just gets so dark in here.’ For the next few minutes she goes through all the changes she has made, and I know it’s simply a distraction from having to talk about Helena.

‘You must both be starving,’ she says, forcing a smile. ‘I’ve got some chicken in. How does that sound?’ She doesn’t wait for an answer, but heads to the kitchen, leaving us to stare after her.

Matt shrugs. ‘She just needs time,’ he whispers.

After lunch, Matt takes Miriam into town to get some things she needs. I know without him saying it that he will use it as an opportunity to talk to her alone, to tell her everything that’s happened in more detail. She is obviously having trouble speaking about Helena, so maybe if it’s just the two of them she might open up.

Once they’ve gone, I lie on the sofa and close my eyes. But instead of seeing darkness, Helena’s face appears as the eighteen-year-old who called herself Grace. I let myself watch her for a while, but my eyes snap open when it becomes too painful.

I must drift off, though, because the next thing I know, someone is standing over me, peering down at me, but not speaking. My vision is blurred to start with but I am sure it is Nick Gibbs.

‘Simone?’

Not Nick Gibbs, but Matt, speaking my name.

Relief washes over me and I clutch his arm, just to make sure it’s really him.

‘Sorry to wake you,’ he says. Then he lowers his voice. ‘I think I cheered Mum up a bit and reassured her that what happened to Helena is not her fault.’

I pull myself up to make room for him on the sofa. ‘But what about you?’ There is sadness in his eyes.

He plonks himself next to me and sighs. ‘I’ll be okay. We both will, we just need to give it time.’

Miriam enters the room and we fall silent. She is carrying a tray with three steaming mugs. ‘Matt said you’ll probably want tea, is that okay? If not I’ll swap you for my coffee.’

I thank her and tell her tea is fine.

Matt suggests we put on the television, and I know it’s not because there is anything interesting on, he simply wants to fill the silence. Miriam switches it on and the True Movies channel begins showing. With a gasp, she quickly flicks over when we realise the film that’s playing is about an abducted child. So instead we opt for a sitcom that no one finds funny.

While we’re watching, I flick through my phone, grateful to have it back from Charlotte. And that’s when I notice a text from her.

They’ve found Nick Gibbs! He’s been arrested!

I check the time of the message and see she sent it over an hour ago. ‘They’ve got him!’ I shriek into the room. ‘Nick Gibbs. They’ve arrested him!’

Matt jumps up. ‘What? How do you know?’

‘Charlotte texted me.’

‘But how does she know?’

‘I guess the police would have told her. I don’t know.’

‘You shouldn’t be talking to that girl,’ Matt says.

I know he is probably right, but I feel sorry for her. She is now in a lot of trouble for the role she played in helping Nick Gibbs, and her future is uncertain.

‘Shall I call the family liaison officer to confirm?’ I say. ‘She’ll tell me.’

It takes me a while to get through to Sandra, but eventually she comes on the line and confirms what Charlotte has said. They have arrested Nick Gibbs.

I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. ‘But how did they find him? Where?’

‘He was desperate enough to try and see his kids. Somehow he found out they were in Brighton and he was arrested trying to take them from their mother.’ I digest what she’s telling me. Nick risked being caught so he could see his children. How is it that someone so fucked up, someone capable of such atrocities, can still have love in their hearts?

‘So what will happen to him now?’ I ask, half-dreading the answer. I know only too well, from the cases I’ve covered at work, how criminals are so often let loose on technicalities.

‘Well, he’s being interviewed as we speak and we can hold him for twenty-four hours while we gather all the evidence to charge him with murder.’

‘Will there be enough? I mean, surely he covered his tracks?’

‘Simone, please let us worry about that. If we need more time we can apply for it. Either thirty-six or ninety-six hours in fact. So don’t panic. We
will
charge him.’

Reassured by Sandra’s words, I thank her and she promises to be in touch soon with updates.

‘That’s great news,’ Matt says, when I report the conversation, and I notice the colour returning to his cheeks. ‘I hope he rots in jail for what he’s done.’

I agree, but point out that we don’t know yet who is responsible for killing Grace. It could have been Nick or Lucas. Or both of them together. There are still many questions remaining unanswered, but hopefully a police interrogation will get to the bottom of it.

‘Well, whoever did it, they’re both as guilty as each other,’ Matt says, and Miriam and I both agree.

I text Abbot to tell him the news, and he replies with a promise to find out everything he can. Any moment now, this will be breaking news. The discovery of two bodies in a flat in Wood Green is already plastered over the television, radio and internet, all of which I try to avoid.

‘Now you can both feel safe again,’ Miriam says. ‘You must have been petrified he’d come after you.’

Nodding, I keep to myself that this is only just the beginning. He could be allowed out on bail, or he could have acquaintances that will sort out any unresolved business for him. And his case will still have to go to court, which is a lengthy process. But I try to stay positive; they have caught him at least, and he will have to answer for what he’s done.

We’ve had such a big lunch that none of us feel like dinner, even by eight o’clock. Despite the good news we’ve had about Nick, Matt soon sinks back into sadness, staring at the TV screen with blank and distant eyes. Every so often I notice Miriam glancing at him, lines creasing her forehead as she wonders what she can say to him. But there is nothing. We will both have to just get through this however we can.

‘I was thinking,’ Miriam says to Matt. ‘Would you be able to put up a shelf for me in the spare room? There’s not much storage space in there and I thought it would be nice for guests to have somewhere extra to put things. I’ve already got the shelf ready to go.’ I remember the last time we stayed here I kept everything in my suitcase because there was nowhere to unpack. But I also know it is an attempt to distract Matt.

‘Okay,’ he says, leaning forward. ‘Now?’

‘If you wouldn’t mind? I know it’s getting late but—’

‘It’s fine,’ Matt says. I know he will be grateful to spend some time on his own, carrying out a task which requires all his focus.

Miriam says she’s borrowed a toolbox from Miles next door, and they both head off to the spare room.

‘Come and see what I’ve done to the bedroom, Simone,’ she calls, after a moment.

‘I just need to make a quick call,’ I tell her, remembering I need to update Chris Harding. No doubt he will already have heard about Grace and Lucas, but the news of Nick Gibbs being arrested will surely bring him some extra hope.

‘But it doesn’t look good, does it?’ he says, once he’s offered his condolences. ‘If that man killed your friend’s daughter and his own friend, then there’s no way he spared Mel’s life. Not after what he did to her in that video.’

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