Her Last Tomorrow (5 page)

I tell myself there’s a perfectly good reason. These ransom notes always come with a caveat, whether it’s implicitly said or not. Everyone who’s ever read a thriller novel knows the rule: You involve the police, the deal’s off. That’s not something I can risk, not if this Jen Hood person really does have Ellie. Ellie means the world to me. More than anything I could possibly risk to get her back. More than...

I do the only thing I can do. I hit
Reply
and start typing.

I delete my words so many times, I can’t even remember what I’ve written before. By the time I’ve finished it’s boiled down to just three words, which I look at again before pressing
Send
.

Who are you?

I barely slept a wink throughout the night, and the worrying got even worse. Once Tasha had come home and the police had called off the search for the night, the sheer panic reached its apex.

Not only was she still missing and no-one was out looking for her, but it was dark, cold and we had no idea where she was or if she was safe. Bizarrely, the only thing that kept me vaguely sane was the ransom note I’d had earlier yesterday evening. At least if I convinced myself it was genuine then it meant Ellie was alive and safe.

We had all the usual lines from the police.
The vast majority of people return home safe and sound after 24 hours, if not 48.
If I had a pound for every time I’d heard that since yesterday, I’d be a millionaire.

We’ve had an officer camped out on our doorstep all night. We’re not quite sure why. The official police line is that they want to protect us from any undue media attention. In my paranoid state, I’m convinced they want to keep an eye on us. I’ve read enough crime books to know that close family are always the first to come under suspicion. Statistically speaking, they’re the most likely to be guilty.

The local BBC radio stations are running the story on their news bulletins and Tasha’s Facebook status has been shared almost a thousand times. By now, everyone in the town and the area’s more than aware of Ellie and still no-one has seen her. That’s both a worry and a comfort, in that it means she’s probably not in the area and that she’s probably with someone. Again, it’s the not knowing
who
that’s the problem.

Tasha’s downstairs on the phone to her parents and the police are out doing their door-to-door enquiries. There are huge great posters of Ellie being put up around the neighbourhood. It’s both comforting and oddly disconcerting.

My phone vibrates on the bedside table and my heart stops as I see the words on the notification.

Jen Hood

Re: Ellie

I unlock my phone and jab the email icon. It seems to take an age to load, but I finally open the email and read the message.

Hope young copper stood outside your house isn’t there for ‘protection’.
 

You know what happens if I find out you told them.

Only one way you can get her back.

The staccato sentences worry me. They sound like someone panicked. If this person has Ellie, the last thing I want them to do is panic. I fire off a reply as quickly as I can.

I told no-one. I understand.

I hope this says it all while remaining deliberately ambiguous. As I hit the send button, I jump up and dart over to the bedroom window with the sudden realisation that the person who sent the email must be able to see the house. If they know there’s a young policeman stood outside the house, they must be nearby.

My heart’s racing at nineteen to the dozen as I try to get my head round this. That policeman’s been there since they called off the search last night, so there’s nothing to say that this Jen Hood is outside right now. In fact, it’d be pretty stupid for them to be outside right now. But how did they manage to get close enough to the house to see the policeman without him seeing them?

In my mind, there’s only one answer to that. They didn’t have to go anywhere. They live on the street.

I try to gauge the lines of sight from where the policeman is stood to the other houses on the street. To the right the line of sight would be broken by the huge hedge that separates our house from next door. To the left, they’d be hidden by the bend in the road on one side and their own walls and hedges on the other. I guess it’s feasible that a few houses could have decent sight lines from their upstairs windows, but there’s only one which has a perfect view. The house that’s sitting there looking at me right now, gloating. Number 39.

Before I can even reason with myself, I’m bounding down the stairs and out the front door. The policeman turns and looks at me.

‘Ah, I was hoping you’d be up soon,’ he says. ‘Mind if I use your loo?’

‘Be my guest,’ I say as I walk quickly past him and cross the road.

Within seconds I’m hammering on Derek’s door. He can’t have seen me coming, because he opens it shortly after and seems genuinely shocked to see me. I don’t wait to be invited in and I make my way through into his kitchen.

He closes the door behind him and shuffles through after me, looking more scared than angry that I’ve just barged my way into his house.

‘Where is it?’ I ask, staring him down.

‘Where’s what?’

‘Come on, don’t play stupid. Where’s your computer?’

‘I don’t own a computer,’ he says, looking confused. ‘What the hell would I want with one of those?’

I realise this is the most I’ve ever heard him say in twenty-odd years of walking past his house twice a day and then living opposite.

‘This Jen Hood thing. The emails. What’s it all about?’ A small part of me appears to be floating above my body, watching ashamedly as my rage and emotion all boils to the surface. The rest of me is completely consumed by it, feeling the blood pulsing in my temples as I stand face to face with the man I think has kidnapped my daughter.

It all makes sense. The way he managed to see her, grab her and get her out of sight within the space of a minute and without me hearing a car. The way he knew there was a policeman standing outside my house. It’s because he was there all along, right opposite, watching me.

‘
Where is she?
’ I yell as I start to pace through the archway into his living room before skirting back round and heading upstairs. ‘Ellie?
Ellie!
’

The upstairs rooms are filled with rubbish — old ornaments and boxes of papers. I know one thing for certain — there’s definitely no computer in this house. The guy doesn’t even look as if he knows how to work a vacuum cleaner.

Despite this, I find myself rifling through his belongings, emptying drawers and throwing things all over the place in my desperate search for something —
something
— that might lead me towards Ellie.

I’m back out on the landing and yanking at the loft hatch when I hear the now-familiar voice of Derek downstairs.

‘He’s up there,’ he says.

Before I can get any further, the policeman who’d been standing outside my house is tugging on my arm and leading me back down the stairs.

By the time I’ve been frogmarched back to my own house by the policeman, McKenna and Brennan are already sitting in my living room, waiting for me. Tasha’s there too.

‘What the hell, Nick?’ she says as I try to avoid looking anyone in the eye. The anger has subsided now and all I feel is shame and embarrassment.

‘Don’t, Tash,’ I say. McKenna and Brennan have left the room to speak to the officer who was posted outside, and who came to get me out of Derek’s house.

‘No, seriously, what the hell? We’ve been out knocking on doors, handing out photos of Ellie, scouring every fucking inch of the area and you’re, what, ransacking some old guy’s house?’

‘Tash, I know. But you have to just believe me, alright? I want Ellie back as much as you do. More than you do.’

‘More than I do? Are you serious?’

‘It’s my fault she went missing, isn’t it?,’ I say, looking at her for the first time. ‘Don’t you think I don’t know that? Don’t you think I’m not beating myself up every minute, every second? I want her back too and I’m doing what I can, in my own way, to make sure that happens. You just have to trust me, Tash.’

‘Trust you?’ she says, making a snorting noise. ‘Nick, I couldn’t even trust you to get her to fucking school.’

There’s a few moments of silence before I speak again. ‘That’s low.’

‘It’s honest,’ she replies. ‘What were you doing over there anyway? What did you seriously expect to find? Ellie locked up in a cupboard in his spare bedroom?’

‘I thought he might know something,’ I reply, knowing I can’t say anything more. Not now.

‘Like what?’ McKenna asks, having re-entered the room silently.

‘I don’t know. I just thought... He must have seen something.’

McKenna sighs and shares a look with Tasha before speaking to me. ‘We’ve already spoken to Mr Francis and he told us that he didn’t see anything. Amongst other things that he told us,’ she adds, leaving the comment hanging in the air like a bad smell.

After a few moments, Tasha offers them tea and McKenna follows her out to the kitchen. I notice they don’t ask me if I want anything.

‘What were you looking for, Nick?’ Brennan asks once they’re gone.

‘Nothing,’ I reply.

‘You must’ve been looking for something,’ he says, sitting down in the armchair in what seems like some sort of attempt to lighten the atmosphere. ‘I mean, you don’t just go around ransacking your neighbours’ houses just for the sake of it, do you?’

I’m not sure how to respond to this. What can I say?
I received a ransom email saying I could have Ellie back if I kill Tasha, and I thought he sent it
? Sure, I could very well say that. Only I don’t want to. And deep down I know why I don’t want to.

It’s at this point that I realise why my frustrations are aimed at the police investigation and the search for Ellie. It’s because I know that the longer the search goes on, and the less likely it becomes that Ellie will be found, I’ll only be left with one way to get her back.

‘Let me level with you, Nick,’ Brennan says, clearly attempting to play Good Cop to McKenna’s Bad. ‘I know you’re under a lot of stress with the situation. Trust me, I see it all the time. I don’t mean that to sound patronising. And I know people respond in different ways to stress. But the way you’re behaving and reacting to things... Well, it’s not doing you any favours, put it that way.’

‘What are you trying to say?’ I ask, partly grateful for his efforts to see things from my point of view and partly sceptical of his motives.

‘I’ve been doing this long enough to get an eye for a situation. I’ve got a pretty good copper’s nose. I know you didn’t do anything to harm Ellie, but the way you’ve been reacting to things, other people might see that otherwise. See what I’m saying?’

I barely hear a word that comes out of his mouth after he says Ellie’s name. I’m stunned by the first mention of the possibility that this could have been some sort of deliberate ploy on my part. I can see why it’s crossed their minds; you see it all the time in books and on TV, the parents being unhinged and harming their own children and then reporting them missing.
 
The police have to consider everything. But the first time you hear that said about yourself, it’s like a ton of bricks landing on your head.

Brennan must have noticed me standing there open-mouthed as he tries to backtrack. ‘I’m just anticipating how these things go, you know? Just trying to give you a bit of friendly advice. I’m pretty certain you’ll want to make sure we’re putting our efforts into finding Ellie and not worrying about what you’re going to do next. See what I mean?’

‘Yeah. Course.’

‘Only, according to Mr Francis, you said something about a computer. You were shouting out Ellie’s name and asking him something about an email. What was that all about?’

‘I dunno,’ I lie. ‘I’ve not been sleeping well. I’d been napping and I woke up confused. Lack of sleep does that to me sometimes and it’s not exactly easy to let your mind wind down when your five-year-old daughter’s missing.’

‘Perhaps you should see a doctor,’ he says.

‘Perhaps,’ I reply.

The atmosphere is broken by the return of Tasha and McKenna, clutching their mugs and passing one to Brennan. It still doesn’t dawn on anyone that I’ve not been asked if I want anything. Or perhaps it does and it’s a deliberate ploy. The way my mind’s working right now, anything’s possible.

‘Now Nick, are you going to tell us what that was all about?’ McKenna says, getting straight to the point as always. I’ve got a million thoughts going through my head right now but the one that concerns me is that they seem to be more preoccupied with me and my actions than they are with finding Ellie.

‘Does it really matter? We should be out looking, not going over stuff which doesn’t matter,’ I say.

‘It does matter though, Nick. It matters that you forced your way into an elderly man’s house and ransacked it,’ McKenna replies.

‘I didn’t force my way in.’

‘You weren’t invited,’ she says.
 

I just shake my head and release a slight smile and a laugh.