The Moment She Left (32 page)

How could he refuse her? Was there anything he’d rather do than be with her? He’d never told her, yet, that he’d composed poems to her, love sonnets that he thought, self-consciously but hopefully, she might one day set to music. ‘We can put all your belongings in the boot, if you like,’ he suggested.

‘Yes, yes, and we can raid the fridge for a picnic to have at our special place on the moor,’ she added excitedly. ‘You need to show me where it is, remember, so why don’t we do it today?’

Andee could see how lost he was to the memory of that day, to the power of feeling he’d known for a girl less than half his age, and clearly still had.

‘I had a meeting to go to that afternoon,’ he went on quietly, not looking at Andee, still staring into the past, ‘but I rang my assistant and got her to reschedule.’ His eyes closed as he was swamped by the memory. ‘I said
I was going to be in Kesterly for the next few days,’ he resumed, ‘and so Jess and I loaded up her car and set off on the journey west, going via the M3 so we could get to our rendezvous point on the moor more quickly. I don’t think I’d ever seen her so happy. She kept looking over at me and grinning, or she’d reach for my hand and kiss it. I suppose I’d been just as happy in my time, obviously I had, but on that day she was all that mattered.

‘We didn’t stop until we reached our nook, as she instantly dubbed it. The picnic didn’t happen right away, I guess you could say we were too hungry for each other. It was a sunny afternoon and we ended up staying far longer than we’d intended. I was having trouble persuading her to put her clothes back on, but I guess I didn’t try very hard.’ His eyes flickered as he seemed to sense this was the kind of detail Andee wouldn’t want. ‘If it had been possible we might have stayed there all night,’ he continued, ‘but she’d told her family to expect her home and the battery was dead on her phone so she couldn’t call them. Of course, she could have used mine, but they would have wondered about the number, so we returned to the car and set off for Kesterly. It was starting to get dark by then, and because we were late I directed her along the back roads of the estate . . .’ He stopped, took a breath and put a hand to his head. For a while he seemed unable to speak, or even breathe, and Andee could almost feel the depth of his suffering. ‘I’m not sure what we were laughing at as we went round Drayman’s curve,’ he said, his voice fractured by emotion, ‘I only remember
that we were laughing then suddenly, out of nowhere, someone was standing in the road.’ He shook his head, as though still unable to believe it. ‘How could someone be standing in the road? It didn’t make any sense. It was so remote and dark. No one ever went there, but there was a woman, and she didn’t move, just stared like she was trapped in the headlights. As soon as we saw her Jessica screamed and spun the wheel, but it was too late, we’d already hit her, and I think instead of slamming on the brake she accelerated and the next thing we were flying off the edge of the road . . . There’s a barrier in place now, but there wasn’t then . . .’ He stopped, trying to catch his breath as the horror of it all overcame him. ‘I keep thinking of how quiet everything seemed as the car descended,’ he said, ‘and yet it couldn’t have been because I’m sure Jess was still screaming . . . I have no recollection of hitting the water, none at all. It’s as though minutes, maybe even days, except it wasn’t that long I know, just vanished from the world. I can only tell you that when I came round I was on the bank, half in and half out of the mud, and there was no sign of Jessica or the car. For one bizarre moment I thought she’d somehow driven on, but of course that couldn’t have happened. I knew the only place she could be was in the water, trapped in the car, but when I tried to get to her it was hopeless. The Mini was too far down and the swamp was trying to drag me in. I kept trying and trying until in the end I knew she couldn’t possibly have survived. Too much time had passed. If she hadn’t been killed outright then she’d have drowned by now. I didn’t know what to do,
my phone was in the car, as was hers.’ He started to sob, the huge wrenching sounds of a man in terrible torment. ‘I left her there,’ he choked. ‘Oh God, oh God, I left her there.’

As she watched him trying to deal with the horror and shame of his actions, Andee knew that there would never be any excusing what he’d done. Nothing in the world could ever justify allowing Jessica’s family to suffer and wonder and hope for two long years, when all the time Charles Stamfield had known their daughter was dead.

In the end, because she had to, she said, ‘Didn’t someone see you when you got to the Hall?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. I still have no recollection of that part of it. The truth is I didn’t remember any of it for several weeks. I realise now that I must have suffered a concussion in the crash, because for a long time I couldn’t even remember knowing her.’

‘But you must have realised, through the media, that she was missing. Didn’t that trigger something for you?’

‘I kept feeling that it should, but I had no idea how, and when they said that she had been last seen in the Holland Park area . . . I had no memory of the house at that time . . . I didn’t remember anything about the car, or what we’d meant to one another . . . It was as though that part of my memory had been wiped clean. It only started to come back later. Not all of it, only parts, until eventually I remembered enough to know what had happened to her, and even where she was.’

He began sobbing again, and though Andee wasn’t beyond feeling pity she was thinking of the election and wondering, with a cynicism she didn’t much like, if it had played a part in his amnesia. It wouldn’t have done him, or the Party, any good for him to have become embroiled in the case of a missing girl at such a crucial time.

‘I wanted to tell someone,’ he pressed on, ‘but so much time had gone by . . . I was sure no one would believe in my memory loss, they’d think I’d deliberately left her there and maybe . . . Maybe I had, because I remember thrashing about the swamp in the darkness, sobbing and begging her to forgive me, so I knew then where she was. It was only after that my mind went blank.’

Abruptly he got up from his chair and started to pace, his long limbs trembling, his anguish and shame as apparent as the tears on his cheeks. His memories, Andee realised, were as torturous as they deserved to be.

‘What about the person you hit?’ she finally ventured.

Several seconds passed before he seemed to connect with the question. ‘I think . . . I don’t know, but I think it’s who’s been blackmailing me.’

Puzzled by that, she said, ‘Have you never tried to find out who it was, if they even survived?’

‘I thought, if I showed an interest, the police would want to know why, and, if she’d survived, she’d end up telling them what she’d seen.’

At a loss to see how this could have got any worse for him, she said, ‘But the lake, or swamp, from what I can
gather, is on your estate. It wouldn’t be unusual for you to enquire about an accident that had happened on the road above it.’

He didn’t seem to have heard her; she couldn’t even be sure that he was still aware of her being in the room.

In the end she said, ‘Does Gina know any of this?’

He swallowed hard as he shook his head. ‘I think she knows I had an affair with someone,’ he replied, ‘but no more than that.’

Remembering that Gina had told her she knew who it was, Andee got to her feet. ‘I have to call the police,’ she said, wishing with all her heart it was to tell them that Jessica was somewhere with an Amish community. ‘I realise Bill might already have done it by now, but they’ll need to know everything you’ve just told me.’

He didn’t argue, he didn’t even seem to connect with the meaning of her words.

‘Then,’ she added, ‘I’m going into Kesterly to break the news to Blake Leonard.’

At that his eyes came to hers, and in that moment she could see quite clearly that he would never, in his entire life, get over this.

An hour later, after a lengthy conversation with Detective Inspector Gould, Andee was with Blake Leonard in the sitting room of his home in the old town. The walls were like a gallery of brilliant copies, with Jenny, Jessica and Matt featuring in famous portraits. As a family they’d obviously had fun with this over the years, and the photographs, mostly of the twins,
showed how very close they all were. Andee was finding them difficult to look at without a lump forming in her throat.

Blake was perched on the edge of an armchair, staring at Andee as he struggled to take in the enormity of what she’d just told him. She could sense how desperately he wanted to reject it, to shut out the images she’d been careful not to make too graphic while at the same time giving him the truth, from Jessica’s affair with a much older and married man, to the gift of a car, to the crash that had led to her death.

He’d said nothing since inviting her to sit down, and she wasn’t sure he was going to speak now. He needed time, obviously, to assimilate the unthinkable horror of where his precious daughter had been these past two years, so much closer to home than anyone had ever imagined. Maybe, once he grasped that terrible reality, he’d be able to connect with the relief of finally knowing what had happened to her, dreadful though it was. Finding a body should bring the closure the family needed for a proper time of grieving to begin.

At last he spoke, clutching randomly at a smaller issue, evidently still unable to confront the bigger one. ‘Do you believe in the amnesia?’ he asked hoarsely.

Not sure whether she did or not, she said, ‘I’m not going to make excuses for Charles; his actions are indefensible.’

He nodded, but she could see he was hardly listening. After a while he said, ‘He’s a father himself. How could he have let us go through this when he must
have known . . .’ As his words failed, all he could do was shake his head in stunned disbelief.

More minutes ticked by before he spoke again. ‘Should I go there?’ he asked. ‘Will they expect me to?’

‘Do you want to go?’

He clearly didn’t know.

Thinking of the awful condition Jessica’s body would be in after so long in the swamp, Andee said, ‘From what I hear it’s not an easy spot to get to, so it’s probably best to let the police do their job. They’ll contact you when they’re ready.’

Seeming to accept that, he appeared suddenly alarmed as he said, ‘Will I have to identify her?’

‘I wouldn’t advise it,’ she replied. ‘There are other ways for the coroner to get what he needs.’

Huskily, he said, ‘We’ll want to remember her how she was before she died, not how she is . . . how she is now,’ and as the horrific imagining of it overcame him he covered his eyes.

Knowing there were no words to make this any easier, Andee sat quietly, lending an unspoken support that she hoped he could sense.

Eventually he got to his feet, seeming agitated. ‘I need to tell Matt,’ he said, ‘and then we’ll go to see Jenny.’

Standing too, Andee regarded him sadly. She knew there would be many more questions later, and a lot of vengeful feelings directed towards the man who could have spared them so much pain. For now, he only seemed able to go from one moment to the next, trying to
Reminding herselffind his way forward and constantly getting lost in the maelstrom of shock.

As they walked to the door, Andee said, ‘We guessed you’d want to go to Devon, so the police are doing their best to keep things from the media until you’ve had time to get there.’

He made no response to that, though she felt sure he appreciated it.

‘Where’s Matt?’ she asked.

‘On his way home. He was out with his friends, but I texted him when I knew you were coming.’

Realising instinct had warned him that the news wasn’t going to be good, Andee put a hand on his arm as she said, ‘Call me any time, day or night.’

He nodded and thanked her and as she started to leave he suddenly embraced her, so tightly she could feel the raw power of his despair. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered brokenly. ‘Thank you for coming, and thank you for caring.’

Her eyes were still wet with tears as she reached her car. Jessica’s death wasn’t the outcome any of them had wanted, nothing like the one that cruel trickster called hope had constantly promised, yet she’d known since becoming involved that it was the most likely one. She’d known too how it would bring back all the grief of losing her sister, make those terrible times feel real and present again in spite of how long ago it had happened. It simply wasn’t possible that Penny was still out there somewhere, and yet she couldn’t stop telling herself that it wasn’t impossible either.

Reminding herself that she’d have time later for her own tears, she drove out of the street and was about to connect to Graeme when he rang.

‘Bill Simmonds just called me,’ he said, the solemnity of his tone telling her that he knew the worst – or part of it anyway. She still wasn’t sure how much Bill knew.

‘So you know they found a car?’ she said carefully.

‘And who was in it.’

Wondering if he was aware yet of Charles’s involvement, and suspecting not, she said, ‘How’s Rowzee taking it?’

‘I’m on my way there now. She’s very upset, apparently. Pamela says she’s had one of her turns. She wants to call the paramedics, but Rowzee’s having none of it. Where are you?’

‘I’ve just left Blake’s. He’s going to tell Matt, then drive to Devon to break it to Jenny.’

‘Oh God, poor man. I didn’t want to call until I was sure he knew. How is he?’

Since there were no words to describe it, she said, ‘He’ll appreciate hearing from you.’

‘OK. I’ll offer to drive him to Devon. He shouldn’t have to do it himself. He won’t be in any fit state.’

Not disagreeing, she said, ‘If you’re going to do that, then unless you already know I need to tell you about Charles Stamfield’s involvement.’

He listened in silence as she gave him the unembellished facts, and even when she’d finished it was several moments before he spoke. ‘Blake knows all this?’ he said soberly.

‘Yes, but going by what I’m picking up from you I don’t think Rowzee and Bill do yet.’