The Attic Room: A psychological thriller - Huber Linda - Страница 44
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‘Nina, there are dozens of police officers out searching,’ he said. ‘Don’t give up, they must find her.’
Sniffing, Nina allowed him to help her to her feet. How very much she wanted to believe what he had said. But how often did you read about little girls being taken and then found later in ditches, raped, bleeding, dead. And Paul would be angry about what had happened, he’d be looking for revenge not only on his own abusers now, but also on her. On the other hand, he knew from his own experience what sexual abuse did to a child. So he wouldn’t allow the same thing to happen to Naomi, would he? He was a victim – but then weren’t paedophiles often victims first, and then lost themselves in a never-ending vicious circle, repeating the abuse they’d been subjected to?
The numbness was returning, replacing pain with blessed nothingness, though Nina knew if suffering would bring her girl back, she would take it all. She grasped the handle of her suitcase. ‘Let’s go to yours. And I should phone Beth. And Naomi’s Dad. But first I want to call David; there might be more news.’
Unlikely, in the forty-five minutes since she’d seen him last, or he’d have phoned and told them. But David was all the contact she had to Naomi at the moment, and oh, what a frail thread of contact it was.
Sam handed over his mobile, and she called David on the way to Sam’s flat.
‘Nothing yet. We’ve got dogs out in the areas you were taken to,’ he told her. ‘Mrs Harrison gave us Naomi’s nightgown for the scent. Rest up for the moment, Nina. I’ll call you back in an hour or so.’
Sam’s flat was comfortable and modern, an enormous blue L-shaped sofa dominating the living room, and crammed bookshelves round two walls. Nina sank into the sofa, dread weighing her into the cushions. Thoughts of Naomi were circling round her head in a quite unbearable spiral; but she had to bear it because, oh fuck – she had caused it. She had caused whatever was happening to her child today.
Why the hell had none of Paul’s teachers or social workers seen that he wasn’t normal? The abuse he’d suffered as a child must have unhinged him, but no one had helped him, and heaven knows how long he’d been like this. Nina shivered. She must have been affected too, how afraid she would have been, a poor little wide-eyed three-year-old who didn’t understand what was happening to her. Incredible to think she’d managed to block out something as momentous as sexual abuse. She had no memories of it – how had she been abused, and how often, and by how many people?
A lump rose in Nina’s throat. Claire had told Morag that John Moore had been ‘hitting them both around’. Had Claire known about the sexual abuse and simply not told Morag? It didn’t sound like Claire, and she and Morag were such good friends. So either Claire knew nothing or… the thought was like a sudden breeze of fresh air…
…or little Nina hadn’t been abused. Was that possible?
Fighting the weakness that was still threatening to overcome her, Nina thought about her three-year-old self. According to what she knew, she’d been a talkative, confiding child. Wouldn’t she have spoken about it to Claire, or Lily, if anything bad had happened to her? And as paedophiles normally abused either boys or girls, but not both, it was actually unlikely that both she and Paul were victims of any one group of abusers.
The one thing Nina was sure of was that Paul had been abused. He couldn’t have lied about that so convincingly. She’d seen all the way into his soul, that night he told her about it. So if Paul had lied about her being abused, he’d done it to scare her away and leave him in peace to continue his revenge scheme. The blackmail letters and the calls hadn’t worked, so he’d notched up the horror-programme for her.
Nina sobbed aloud. There was no way to know, but surely, surely, Claire would have intervened if she’d known that Paul was being abused?
Sam appeared from the kitchen with a glass of orange juice and a sliced banana on a plate.
‘Eat,’ he said briefly. ‘I’ll phone Mum and tell her you’re here.’
He left her alone, and Nina managed two pieces of banana and a sip of juice before pushing the plate away. Was Sam on his landline? She wanted to phone Bethany.
He came back and gave her the handset almost as if he had heard her thought.
‘Mum’s coming up later,’ he said. ‘She’s in a bit of a state; she feels it’s her fault.’
‘It’s not,’ said Nina, her voice thick. ‘He would have got Naomi even if she hadn’t been outside. I’m sure he had plenty of tricks ready. Look how he got me into his car – false bombs and everything. He was so convincing, Sam – it’s my fault, not Cassie’s.’
And if anything happened to Naomi today Nina knew she would blame herself for the rest of her life.
Sam patted her shoulder. ‘I’ll leave you to call Beth. Eat that banana, Nina, it’ll give you energy.’
As soon as she heard Beth’s voice Nina dissolved into tears, and it was a few minutes before she was able to talk coherently. Beth was horrified, and for more long minutes all they could do was cry together.
When she ended the call Sam came back and sat beside her on the sofa. Nina sipped her juice, her teeth chattering against the rim of the glass.
‘This is like waiting for Mum to die,’ she said. ‘She was in a coma for days. I was pumped full of adrenalin all the time, ready to cope with her death. I hardly slept. And now – it’s the same kind of feeling again. Sheer horror and nothing to do but wait.’
Sam put an arm round her and Nina closed her eyes. When would she be able to hold Naomi in her arms? Dear God, she’d known about the paedophilia but she still allowed her only child to come and be a part of it all. She’d been the worst possible kind of mother to her little girl. If only… if only she’d never heard of John Moore, never come to Bedford, and never inherited all that blood money.
In and out, in and out, there was nothing to do except breathe and wait for news to come.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Thursday 27th July
Nina slept fitfully on Sam’s spare bed that night, fully clothed in case the police called and she could rush to Naomi. Going to bed when there was still no news of her child was horrendous, but she was so tired… She’d phoned Alan, who was distraught but decided to wait in South Africa in the meantime. Nina could almost understand this, after all, she and Alan would draw little comfort from each other’s presence and the journey from Cape Town was over twelve hours even after the plane took off, and dear God surely Naomi would be found by that time. But it was another rather chilling reminder that she was the only ‘close’ family her child had.
David Mallony called shortly before midnight to report they would continue door to door inquiries the next day, but in his opinion Paul had taken Naomi somewhere else.
‘This wasn’t how he’d planned things; he’ll need time to re-think,’ he said. ‘We’ll put out an appeal tomorrow, Nina. Can you get us a recent photo of Naomi? You won’t have to speak; we know who has Naomi so all we need is a police appeal to the public to keep their eyes open. And of course all the airports and ports are already alerted. He won’t get her out of the country but I don’t for a minute imagine he’s trying to. He’ll be holed up somewhere making new plans.’
Nina’s sleep was broken, full of dark, frightening dreams. Every so often she jerked awake, heart racing, only to fall back into uneasy sleep. Dismal visions of Glen and Cassie and Emily, all shouting ‘help, help’, chased no less fearsome dreams of Claire and her bruised and broken face. Nina awoke at six with tears on her cheeks and knew she wouldn’t sleep again.
There was silence from Sam’s room as she crept past to the phone and punched out the number of the police station, only to be told there was no news but the search parties were already out again in the estates. Nina stood by the kitchen window, forcing back panic. It was a beautiful morning; brilliant sunshine mocked her as it sparkled on the chrome sink. Inside she felt as dark and oppressive as it was possible to feel, and that wasn’t going to change until she had her girl back. Today, please, that must happen today.
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