“This morning. I don’t know what time. Remember what I said. It has to be Meghan. Not the police. Tell them I have a gun. If I see a copper, I’ll shoot Rory.”
“You wouldn’t hurt Rory.”
“How would you know? I’ve killed babies before.”
“Don’t say that, Aggy. Just come in.”
“Not this time.” I muffle a sob with my fist. “Hayden?”
“Yeah.”
“These past weeks—with you and Rory—have been the happiest of my life.”
“Mine too,” he says, and I believe him.
MEGHAN
* * *
Arriving at Chiswick police station, we’re taken directly to MacAteer’s office on the second floor and told to wait. Through slatted blinds, I view the incident room where dozens of detectives are on the phones or poring over train timetables and CCTV footage. The helter-skelter of activity should bolster me, but I’m beyond reassurance.
MacAteer’s voice echoes across the room.
“There are three million fucking cameras in this city and you’re telling me not one of them has picked her up?” He kicks at a chair, which rolls into a bin. Detectives keep their heads down, not wanting to make eye contact.
The DCS is issuing orders. “Tell the Imperial War Museum we want full access to their control room and security cameras. Front office staff will be replaced by undercover officers and the public have to be kept away from the foyer.”
“How do we do that without alerting her?” asks a detective.
“I don’t care—just do it.”
MacAteer is walking and talking. “We need eyes on her as soon as possible, which means putting plainclothes officers at the nearest train stations and bus stops. They’re to follow from a distance. Nobody, I repeat nobody, approaches her until we have the SWAT teams in place. Is that understood?”
Nods all round.
MacAteer has reached the office. He shakes Jack’s hand and smiles at me, trying to be reassuring.
“Thank you for coming.” As though we had a choice. “How much have you been told?”
“Agatha called her fiancé,” says Jack.
“We’ve traced the signal to a South West train traveling between Wandsworth station and Clapham Junction at six twenty-four this morning. By the time we intercepted the train, it had reached Waterloo station. She wasn’t on board.”
“What about Ben?” I ask.
“We believe he’s with her.”
“Is she going to give him back?”
“She says she’ll hand Ben over to you. She wasn’t clear on the time, but we think she’s heading to the Imperial War Museum.”
“Why there?” I ask.
“It’s where Hayden Cole took her on their first date.”
MacAteer glances at a message on his phone. “We’re going to put a female officer in your clothes—someone with the same build and hair color.”
“But Agatha knows what I look like,” I say.
“I’m not putting you in danger.”
“Won’t she get angry if someone else shows up?”
“It won’t be an issue.”
“How can you say that?”
I look at Jack, hoping he might back me up. Come on! He remains silent.
MacAteer continues. “We believe Agatha Fyfle spent last night at a supermarket in Barnes. She entered after hours and disabled the alarm system. An employee reported the break-in at six this morning, when he arrived for work. Somebody stole nappies, baby formula, and food. The manager had a handgun locked in a drawer below the cash register. The gun is now missing, which is why I won’t risk putting you anywhere near this woman.”
“Agatha wouldn’t shoot me.”
“You don’t know that.”
I begin to argue, but MacAteer cuts me off. “Five years ago, Agatha was interviewed about the abduction of a baby girl in Brighton. Although never considered to be a serious suspect, she was traced by officers using accommodation records to locate any visitors to Brighton that weekend.”
“The baby was never found,” I say, the words like cotton in my mouth.
“How do you know that?” asks Jack.
“I heard the mother being interviewed on the radio. Emily. That was the baby’s name.”
Anxiety expands in my chest like a balloon. I picture the stone markers found beside the canal near Leeds. What did Agatha do? Did she panic and hide the evidence? What will she do if I don’t show up?
*
MacAteer answers a knock on the door. A car is waiting to take him to the Imperial War Museum.
“Please let me come,” I beg. “Ben is going to need me.”
“It’s safer if you stay here,” he says.
“You either take me or you arrest me.”
The detective looks at Jack, hoping for a supporter.
Jack raises his palms, as though opting out of the debate. “If I were you, I wouldn’t argue with my wife.”
AGATHA
* * *
At Clapham Junction, I catch a train to Three Bridges in West Sussex before changing platforms and taking a London-bound service to Victoria. The city passes the window—railway workshops, besmirched brick walls, and pitted asphalt car parks that give way to terraced houses and blocks of flats. A blur of blue, white, and yellow rushes past in the opposite direction, making the windows rattle and the air pressure change.
Unwrapping a new SIM card, I slide it into my phone, pressing it on. The screen lights up. I call another number. There are phantom clicks on the line. A woman answers.
“I’d like to speak to Meghan Shaughnessy,” I say.
“Are you a reporter?”
“No.”
“Are you a friend of hers?”
“She knows me.”
“Mrs. Shaughnessy is busy at the moment. I can take a message.”
“Tell her it’s Agatha.”
The woman on the phone seems to choke on her own saliva.
“Please hold,” she says, covering the phone. I can still hear what she’s saying. “It’s her! Trace the signal. Let the boss know.”
She uncovers the handset. “She’s coming now.”
“You’re lying. Put her on or I’ll hang up.”
“She’s upstairs.”
“No she’s not.”
The phone is covered again. I hear muffled voices. Instructions.
“Here she is,” says the woman.
Meg is breathing hard. “It’s me.”
“Are they listening?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Yes. I’m sorry. Is Ben all right?”
“He’s fine.”
“They said he was sick.”
“He’s better now.”
There is a pause. The silence weighs more heavily on Meg. “The police say you’re going to give him up.”
“Only to you.”
“Can it be someone else?”
“No.”
“They say you have a gun.”
“I’m not going to shoot you.”
“The police don’t know that.”
Another silence. I take a deep breath and begin to explain. Meg interrupts.
“You’re on a train. You could leave Ben at the ticket office or give him to a conductor.”
“No.”
“But if you did that—”