‘No, please!’ Toni lurches towards her, grabbing her arm. ‘Please, Nancy, don’t go. It’s just a shock. I want to know everything. I have to know.’
Nancy looks over at Anita and the old woman nods sadly, bowing her head. Nancy remembered how, the day she first met Anita, her hair was brown and set in soft curls. Now it is flat and dull, the colour of ashes.
‘We have to deal with it,’ Anita says softly, looking to her daughter and back at Nancy. ‘Whatever you have to tell us, it’s better than this living hell, where we’ve known nothing for years.’
‘That’s right.’ Toni’s grip tightens on Nancy’s arm. ‘Mum’s right. I’ll deal with it, Nancy. Whatever you tell me, I’ll cope with it. I promise.’
And so Nancy tells her.
She tells her that Jo Deacon has indicated that there was another person involved in Evie’s abduction, and more than that, Toni also knows this other person.
Toni sits down heavily next to her mother and Anita puts a shaking arm around her. Nancy falls quiet then, watching them entwined in a terrible shared silence.
Finally, Toni looks up and stares, not at Nancy, but through her.
Nancy can hear the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the shrieks of nearby children playing outside. The ticking of a large clock on the mantelpiece reminds her of the wall clock in Jo Deacon’s room. She wonders briefly if the two timepieces tick in sequence or are out of kilter.
Then, unexpectedly, Toni speaks. Nancy is surprised to hear that her voice sounds clear and calm, the panic and grief reburied for now.
‘I want to thank you again, Nancy, for doing this,’ she says slowly, reaching for Anita’s hand. ‘It means so much to me and Mum, to know we have a real friend in you. Someone who knew Evie, who is firmly on our side.’
‘It’s the least I could do,’ Nancy says, her eyes fixed on Toni, wondering what it is about her that suddenly seems different. More focused.
They sit in silence for a few seconds.
‘Has DI Manvers been in touch?’ Nancy asks.
‘Yes,’ Toni says, trancelike. ‘Nothing to report, apparently. It’s like Evie was never here in the first place.’
‘I’m sure he’s doing everything he—’
‘I don’t need the detective, not now,’ Toni says, a smile playing on the edges of her mouth. ‘Thanks to you, I can take it from here.’
‘Sorry?’ Nancy frowns. Had this new information tipped her over the edge?
‘I don’t need DI Manvers, at least not yet.’ Toni smiles, squeezing her mother’s hand as though she’s just discovered something she’s known all along.
Nancy stares, not quite knowing what to say. Toni looks at her, her features soft and relaxed for the first time.
‘You see, Nancy, I know what I have to do now.’ She stands up and stares out of the window. The light is fading, but it’s still bright enough to shine through Toni’s sparse hair. ‘It’s so obvious to me.’
Nancy shakes her head, not understanding.
‘I know.’ Toni speaks slowly, emphasising the words. ‘I know who the other person is that helped steal my daughter away from me. I’m going to make that person tell me where she is or I’m going to kill them.’ Toni smiles. ‘It’s that simple.’
68
Present Day
Toni
As soon as Nancy leaves the house, I ring DI Manvers.
When I move, my bones crack, my muscles strain and ache. I feel like I’m unfurling, like a seedling coming up for spring.
Evie needs me. I believe she’s alive now more than ever.
The first call rings and rings and then clicks through to voicemail. I dial again. DI Manvers picks up on my third attempt.
‘I need to know what’s happening,’ I say.
My throat feels choked by the sharpness of my words. I haven’t heard from him since yesterday.
‘Toni, I can assure you the investigation is ongoing,’ he says smoothly, his tone implying he feels mistrusted by me. ‘We’re currently looking into Ms Deacon’s affairs.’
Her affairs? What does that phrase actually mean? Are they dissecting her bank account? Analysing her telephone records? Investigating any recent purchases?
‘This is not a fucking traffic incident, DI Manvers. When will you be trying to find my daughter?’ I spit. ‘When will that be your priority?’
‘Mrs Cotter. Toni,’ DI Manvers stammers. ‘I do understand your concerns, I really do, but please trust us. We’re doing everything we possibly can.’
I’m supposed to feel placated. He is prepared to say anything to calm me down and get me off the phone. I have to do something to make him listen.
‘There’s someone else involved,’ I blurt out. I’m met by silence on the other end of the line.
‘How do you know this?’ DI Manvers’s voice takes on an official tone.
I think about Nancy, the way she’s helped me and Mum, placed her trust in us. I think about her job, the years she’s worked to build up her career.
‘What I mean to say is that there must be someone else involved,’ I correct myself. The last thing I want to happen is for him to become distracted with Nancy’s interventions at the hospital. ‘Otherwise Evie would be there, at her house, wouldn’t she?’
‘Toni.’ He sighed again. ‘We have yet to be convinced that Jo Deacon actually did take Evie. These cases are rarely so clear cut, and it would be extremely unusual for a middle-aged female like Joanne Deacon to successfully abduct a child and evade detection for the last three years.’
‘What about the photograph?’ I press. ‘She had a photograph of Evie looking much older.’
‘I know that. But it could have just been a coincidence. She could have found it or been given it. I shouldn’t even tell you this much, but we have forensics crawling all over Ms Deacon’s flat. If there is anything to find there, you can be sure we will recover it.’
‘So what are you going to do now?’ I ask, my voice cracking despite my best efforts to stay calm. ‘Evie could be out there, still alive. What are you doing to look for her?’
‘I can’t answer any more of your questions I’m afraid,’ DI Manvers says, his tone regretful. ‘Until Ms Deacon recovers sufficiently to be properly questioned, we can’t begin a full-scale enquiry. We’re in touch constantly with the hospital and they will contact us the second she shows any signs of improvement.’
‘Well maybe you should check your messages,’ I snap. ‘Because Jo Deacon blinked this morning.’
I end the call, blood boiling in my veins and my heart splitting open. I have no hard, fast evidence, but I just feel the police have given up on us.
I think they are going through the motions of what is expected, but deep down, they truly believe that Evie is already dead.
69
Present Day
The Teacher
Harriet sits in her armchair, staring at the front page of the newspaper. Specifically, she is staring at the photograph on the front page of the newspaper, because she knows the woman’s face.
Granted, it has been a long time, but Harriet is good with faces. Her sharp memory was one of the reasons she was so good at her job. She rarely forgot the face of a parent or child once she’d had a conversation with them. People like it when you remember them. It doesn’t matter what age they are, the neediness is there. From young children right along the line to very old people, everyone likes to think they’re memorable, interesting enough for you to remember their name or ask how they enjoyed their birthday party, weeks after they told you the date.
So Harriet has no problem recalling the conversation she had with the woman who is now plastered all over the front page of the local newspaper. She’d had several conversations with her, in fact.
The woman had told Harriet back then that her name was Mary Short, but the tagline under the photograph quotes another name: Joanne Deacon.