The Missing Hours (19 page)

He had at that point been held captive for three months, one week and five days. As far as he knew, the world had forgotten about him.

He wept when he heard Ed Cole’s voice.

I’m bringing you home, Ed told him. It’s nearly over.

The new ransom requested was even higher than the one before, the kidnappers irritated by their dealings with Hector Security.

Ed Cole expressed to the kidnappers that there was no insurance in place and that any ransom would be a scrabbled-together affair made up of the generosity of friends.

What the final settlement was remains a mystery. You do not talk about the figures paid in the K&R industry. It’s bad policy, giving other kidnappers a benchmark for future ransoms.

But after almost four months in captivity, Beck was released, handed over to the waiting Ed Cole.

You would think this would be an unusual affair. That things like this do not happen as a matter of course. The fact remains that throughout Latin America, and in fact the wider developing world, there are dozens, if not hundreds of innocents being held captive, waiting for their own Ed Cole to come and rescue them.

Would that they were all so lucky.

A question of what is important

DC Leah Mackay: Thursday, 9.25 a.m.

‘
WELL THAT’S THAT
then.’

I don’t look up at Oliver. I’m still reading about Beck Chambers, justifying it by telling myself he’s the prime suspect in the murder of Dominic Newell, that it is nothing, nothing at all, to do with the fact that he was employed by the Cole Group. I keep my head down, in the hope that Oliver is talking to someone else, that if I do not look at him then he will slink away, back under the rock he crawled from.

I am, unfortunately, not that lucky.

‘You heard, right?’ He comes over to stand next to me, closer than I want him to. ‘Surveillance team have Beck in Hereford at the time of the murder.’

I can hear the smile in his voice, although he is trying to fight it.

‘Looks like Finn backed the wrong horse.’

I glance up at him, smile. ‘Ol? Shut the hell up, okay?’

I grab my phone, push myself away from my desk. I should look for my brother. Check that he is okay. But, I tell myself, he’s a big boy. He won’t appreciate me attempting to mother him. And there’s something else. Beck has been ruled out as the murderer. Surveillance has placed him in Hereford.

Hereford. Ten miles from the Cole home.

Because it’s undeniable that there is a link between Beck Chambers and Selena Cole. They worked for the same firm. He worked in Mexico. If it was scopolamine, if that’s what happened to Selena, Beck could have had knowledge of it, from his time there. He could have had access to it.

I walk with quick strides towards the door, slip into the empty hallway.

They are tied somehow, these two cases. A vanishing and a death. And Beck, somehow Beck is involved in it. Not the killing, perhaps. Maybe instead the vanishing.

I run down the stairs, feeling a strain in my quads. Think that I cannot remember the last time I trained, that I used to be fit. That I should do that. Should slip on my trainers, go for a run. I’d like that.

I push my way out on to the street. It is a grey day. Another grey day. Has there ever been another kind? I slip past the door of the police station, the bright lights of its lobby glowing in the dimness. Wish that I had thought to bring a coat. It is cold, the wind has teeth in it, and I shiver hard. Scroll through my contacts list.

Orla’s number is still on my phone from an early-morning call, the one that woke me from a barely-there sleep, telling me that Selena Cole had been found.

My finger hovers over it as the cold nips at me.

I could just call Selena. She is, after all, found now. I could call her, ask her the questions that I have lined up for Orla. But I press Orla’s number, tell myself that it is because we have a relationship, that we have built up a trust, that it will be easier. Yet that’s not the truth, is it? The truth is that Selena Cole still seems barely real to me. The person she is, the things she has done. She feels like someone on a screen, in the pages of a book, not a person, not really. I listen to the ringtone. Am I afraid of Selena Cole? I shiver, push that thought away. No. I’m not afraid. Am I lying to myself? Maybe. Or is it that icons are harder to keep when they are up close, personal? That it is easier not to see the flaws when they are further away.

I listen to the ringtone, wait as it connects.

‘Hello?’

‘Orla? It’s Leah. Leah Mackay.’

There is a hefty pause. ‘Oh. I … Hi.’

‘How are you all?’

‘We’re fine.’ The words have edges. ‘Everything’s fine. Settling back down. Look,’ she says, ‘I appreciate you getting in touch. But really, it isn’t necessary.’

I wonder if this is the same person, the one who was so grateful for my presence such a short time ago. The wind has changed, is blowing from a different direction now. I’m not the saviour any more. Now I am a nuisance. Or am I a threat?

‘No,’ I say, ‘it’s not that.’

‘Oh?’

‘Your husband, Seth …’

‘What about him?’ There is so much hardness in her voice; I am an invader attempting to batter down her defences. Why? There are secrets here, a treasure worth defending. But then what marriage does not have secrets buried at the heart of it?

‘No, nothing, it’s just that he mentioned something, about Selena. A drug. Something common in South America.’

She settles into a quietness, so that all I can hear is the sound of the traffic, the low thrum that tells me the phone is still alive, that she hasn’t hung up on me. Not yet, anyway.

Then, ‘Devil’s breath.’

‘Yes.’ I wait for more. Know that I should hold my tongue. And yet … ‘I mean, it would explain the memory loss.’

‘Yes,’ Orla says. ‘It would.’

She subsides into silence again, and I think that she is done, that this is all she will say. But then she sighs.

‘The Cole Group dealt with a case, in San Cristobal. A baby, kidnapped.’

‘Aria Theaks.’

‘Aria Theaks,’ she agrees.

I line my words up, inspect them before allowing them out. ‘If it was scopolamine, if that is what happened to Selena, then someone gave it to her. Someone did this.’

‘Yes.’

‘Orla, I’ve asked you this before. But I’m going to ask you again. Does Selena have any enemies?’

‘No …’

‘Orla.’ I hear my own voice hardening up. ‘If someone has done this, if someone took Selena, they could come back. We don’t know what they wanted, we don’t know if they got it. They may come back. And’ – I feel a spurt of cold, hard genius – ‘we need to think about the girls. If whoever did this cannot get Selena, it’s reasonable to assume that they would consider her children to be viable targets.’

I hear her swallow, know that I have won.

‘You don’t think …’ I can hear the fear now, thickening her voice. ‘You think they could be in danger?’

Got you.

‘We need answers, Orla. If we’re going to keep them safe.’ I turn my back to the wind, the traffic, feel oddly warmer now. ‘I need to ask you about Beck Chambers.’

‘Okay.’ For a moment, I think she will give me trouble, but no. ‘Beck used to work for us. For the Cole Group, that is.’

‘And?’

Orla sighs weightily. ‘He was one of Ed’s. Hostage, no insurance, not much money. An excellent way of getting yourself killed in Mexico. Ed took pity on them, the family. He was like that, my brother. Got it all handled free of charge.’ She gives a breath, a sigh or a snort, I’m not sure. ‘He even threw in some of the ransom money, if you can believe that.’

I listen, straining out the growling of engines. There’s something here, a back door into a secret.

‘That must have been tough. On the firm, I mean. Quite a financial burden to carry.’

‘It really was. I mean, obviously it’s their firm, Ed and Selena’s, so they can do what they see fit. But the thing is, Seth and I, we were invested too. Not financially, we didn’t have the money for that, but it was our livelihood too. If the group had gone under, we’d have been stuffed. Seth especially. I mean, me, I could do accounts anywhere, but K&R is a tough business, it’s secretive, competitive, and Seth, he’s got no education, not to speak of. He came right out of foster care and into the military. He always jokes that it was the military or prison. The Cole Group, this job, it’s everything to him. If it were to collapse … I just don’t know what he’d do.’

I make a soft noise, agreeing. We are nowhere near where we’re supposed to be. But that’s the thing with investigating: sometimes you just have to let people talk, even if it seems irrelevant, because you don’t know what is going to matter until you get to the end of the story.

‘So … What was I …’ Orla is floundering, has realised that she is taking me on a walk in the woods. ‘Beck, sorry. Yeah. He was one of our rescues. He fell apart afterwards. Drinking. Drugs. You know the drill.’ It is a statement of fact, distaste clouding the words. ‘Ed and Selena, they did their knight-in-shining-armour thing. The way they do. Selena sorted out rehab, got counselling for him. Once he was clean, Ed gave him a job.’

‘You weren’t happy about that?’

‘To be honest, Seth and I thought he was a loose cannon. It just seemed … unwise. But, anyway, he was okay, did his job more or less. Until Ed …’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He was cut up about it, my brother’s death. Like we weren’t. And the thing is, he hadn’t known him that long, so I don’t know why … Anyway, he came into work drunk, and that was it.’

‘You fired him?’

‘Seth did.’

‘How did he react?’

Another silence. ‘He wasn’t happy.’

‘Go on.’

‘He grabbed hold of Seth. He’s a big guy. I thought he was going to kill him.’

‘And?’

‘And nothing. He just kind of shoved him, walked out. To be honest, I’m glad. We’re better off without him.’

‘What about Selena?’

‘What about her?’

‘Did Beck hold her responsible for his dismissal?’

Orla hesitates. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You spoken to him lately? Has Selena?’

‘No,’ she says. ‘Not for months. Not that I know of, anyway.’

I’m watching the lit-up lobby. I hadn’t intended to do this. At least I hadn’t thought I had. Then a figure moves across the glass and I realise that I had probably intended to do exactly this all along.

‘Orla, I’m going to have to call you back.’

I pocket the phone, walk with quick strides. Beck Chambers is stepping through the sliding glass doors. He looks emptied out.

‘Mr Chambers?’

The words are out of my mouth, bright against the dull day. He recoils, as if it was a gun retort.

‘I’m DC Leah Mackay. I’m investigating the disappearance of Selena Cole.’

I lay it out at his feet, wait.

He is watching me, waiting for me to detonate, lowers his chin, and I suddenly realise how big he is, that he could snap me like a twig.

‘She’s been found, Selena,’ he says. ‘Right?’

I nod. Watching him. Waiting.

He is calm, looks at me levelly. ‘Then there is no crime here.’ He tucks his hands into his jacket pockets. ‘I suggest you concentrate on the murder, Ms Mackay.’ Then he is gone.

I stand there in the cold and the wind and watch him go. And I wonder how he knew that Selena had been found.

The cost of infidelity

DS Finn Hale: Thursday, 9.57 a.m.

I WALK LIKE
I am on the deck of a ship. The evidence has led you one way, then comes a wave that tips you, destabilises your world, and now you’re facing in an entirely different direction. Now what?

Oliver is watching me. I see him out of the corner of my eye. Want to tell him to piss off. But that would be childish. So instead I wait until I’m past him, then flip him off.

Leah grins.

‘How old are you?’ she mutters.

‘Old enough to have arrested the wrong guy,’ I say, a sullen teenager. I sit down next to her. Stare at my feet. I should polish my shoes occasionally.

I think of Beck, walking free. There is a bubble of something that it takes me a moment to identify. Is it relief? What’s that about? That I do not want the killer to be just one more squaddie who’s gone mental? Because if it can happen to him …

‘So,’ says Leah, swivelling her chair towards me. ‘Where are we now?’

I shrug. ‘Nowhere.’

‘Bullshit, Finn.’ She says it like she’s kidding, but there is iron in her tone. ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself. What do we know?’

‘We know it wasn’t Beck Chambers who killed Dominic,’ I mumble. Seriously, I’m starting to irritate myself now.

‘Excellent. One crossed off the list. What else?’

‘Dominic was having an affair.’

‘Yes.’ Leah looks away, her eyes resting back on her monitor. She goes quiet, a silence long enough that even I notice it. Then she shakes herself, looks back at me. ‘So,’ she says, ‘that brings us to a bunch of questions. Who was he having an affair with? What was that relationship like? Did that person have a significant other who may have been put out by this turn of events? And …’

‘Did Isaac know?’

‘Did Isaac know?’

Leah pulls her chair closer to the computer, types quickly. ‘Let me see … I’ve only just started looking at the e-mails, so maybe there’s something …’

I watch her, her lips pursed.

‘Okay … ah … yeah, Dominic and Isaac e-mailed a lot. God. Okay. Let’s look at the last few days.’ She clicks on one, swivels the monitor so that I can see it.

I pull my chair closer.

‘This is, let’s see, the Friday before.’

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Hiya,

Don’t forget to pick up milk on your way