The Attic Room: A psychological thriller - Huber Linda - Страница 47
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‘Thanks man!’ Sam gave him a thumbs-up.
Nina started along the road, not allowing herself to hope. Crossing the first junction they came to she slowed down, gazing up the narrower street.
‘Wait! It was along there,’ she said, excitement stirring inside her. She strode along, Sam following. ‘Look, we drove down here and – yes, I remember now, I saw that house with the green curtains, we parked - ’ She ran further up the road, ‘ – right here! Quick, quick, I have to phone David, they should come straightaway – she might be close by!’
Nina’s teeth were chattering as she pulled out her mobile. She could be within a few yards of Naomi right now.
David’s voice was calm, but she could hear the urgency behind his words.
‘Nina, get right away from there. Immediately, and quietly. If Paul is nearby with Naomi and sees you and Sam searching around, the first thing he’s going to do is leave again. Go back to your car and wait. I’ll be in touch.’
Sam was listening in and he pulled her back along the road. ‘He’s right. Come on, Nina!’
She allowed herself to be propelled back along the road, but it didn’t stop her looking round frantically as they went. Naomi, baby, are you here? If she shouted with all that was in her, would Naomi hear?
An elderly woman was trudging along the road with a carrier bag. ‘Looking for something, dearie?’ Her voice was rough but kindly.
‘My cousin brought my daughter to stay somewhere on this road but I don’t know the number,’ said Nina, wondering if there was actually any point in lying about it. ‘Have you seen her? Ten, shoulder-length blonde hair, looks like me only – better.’
The woman gave a snort of amusement. ‘Wait till you hit my age, dearie. I did see a young chap with a girl this morning, I noticed because I’ve lived here all me life and I reckoned I knew everyone, but these two were new to me. We don’t get many casual visitors hereabouts. Why don’t you ring someone’s bell and ask, if you’re sure this is the right street?’
She waddled on up the road. Nina gave up. The police could search more effectively than they could, and the last thing she wanted was to frighten Paul – and Naomi – away from the area. If they were here in the first place. She passed on what the woman said to David and followed Sam back to the car, where they sat staring at each other. New hope was painful in Nina’s chest, and she had to make an effort to breathe normally. The police were coming. She could be within minutes of holding her daughter.
Or maybe not. She could be within minutes of sitting in an ambulance as it blue-lighted towards hospital, Naomi with God knows what injuries pale on the stretcher beside her. Or – the worst thought in the world – she could be within minutes of watching police cars scream up and park diagonally across the street, officers running to stretch tape across the entrance to one of these houses – the start of a murder investigation. When her mobile rang she could hardly control her fingers enough to answer it.
‘Naomi isn’t here,’ said David. ‘Go at once to the police station and I’ll meet you there, Nina. There’s more news.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Claire’s story – Edinburgh
‘Waah, Gran – did you really walk up these steps all the time when you were little?’
Claire laughed, feeling her breath catch in her throat as she and Naomi arrived at the top of Waverley Steps, coming up from the train station. The escalators were off, and a tired stream of early Christmas shoppers were pounding their way up and down the stairs, helped or hindered by the wind that was a permanent feature there.
‘I certainly did. You get used to it, you know. Let’s go and have some orange punch before we visit Santa.’ Claire breathed in, smelling the roast-chestnuts-mulled-wine-too-much-traffic smell that was so peculiarly Edinburgh at Christmas. She and Naomi were spending the weekend here, a belated treat for the little girl’s sixth birthday.
They wandered along bustling Princes Street, Claire’s hand gripping Naomi’s. She could hear children singing carols further along the street. Good King Wenceslas was followed by Jingle Bells. Sweet, high-pitched, slightly out-of-tune little voices, accompanied by a whiff of mince pies from the stand by the roadside – how lovely it was to be back. The ghost of Christmases past. And how odd to think that Nina was younger than Naomi was now when the two of them returned home to Mum and Dad in Edinburgh.
Claire pulled out her purse when they reached the stand, and bought a paper cup of mulled wine for herself and one of orange punch for Naomi. This was perfect, a visit to her home town with her granddaughter – how blessed she was. The tension that had ruled her life for so many years was all but gone – she had made it. Nina was grown up and the two of them and Beth were successfully running the B&B; whether or not Robert was alive and well she had no idea, and while she couldn’t quite say she didn’t care, it wasn’t such a huge obstacle to her peace of mind. Being a Grandma had helped her get things into proportion. She had a wonderful family, a beautiful home… she even went on the odd date now. Life was good. Who cared what Robert may or may not do? In any case she had every intention of living to be a hundred and fifty, so Robert would never have the chance to contact Nina. Miserable git that he was.
Most importantly, she had come to realise that the very fact that in all these years Robert had never taken the trouble to contact his daughter would prevent Nina forging any real relationship with her father. Robert had rejected Nina. And maybe someday the opportunity would arise for her to sit down with her girl and have a frank talk. Explain things. And if it didn’t – no matter.
‘Can we visit Santa now?’ Naomi was jumping up and down, blonde hair escaping from the Swedish woolly hat one of their foreign visitors had sent her. Happiness surged through Claire. It was almost Christmas and Santa was real; the magic was still intact.
Count your blessings, Claire, she thought. You’re the luckier grandparent. You have a daughter who loves you and a granddaughter who thinks you’re wonderful. Nothing’s worth more than that.
‘‘Course we can,’ she said.
Chapter Thirty
As soon as he walked into the room she saw it, and it was all she could do not to scream.
‘Don’t touch,’ said David Mallony. He placed the evidence bag on the interview room table.
Nina stared through clear plastic. Naomi’s blue and white striped sweatshirt lay there, unfolded, looking for all the world as if the girl had pulled it off and flung it down on the table.
‘Where did you find it?’ Did this calm voice really belong to her?
‘It was on a sofa in number ten, near to where you remembered leaving Wright’s car,’ said David steadily. ‘This proves Naomi was in that house at some point. There’s no sign of either of them now, though, so it may simply have been a stopping-off place. According to the neighbours, the people who rent it are on holiday. And we’ve found the car registered to Paul Wright, so he must be using the other one, the one you transferred to beside this house. It possibly belongs to the people who live in that house so we’re investigating that too.’
Nina sat still, her eyes devouring the sweatshirt. All she wanted to do was rip the bag open and bury her face in soft cotton, blue and white to match the blue sweat pants Naomi wore to play badminton back on Arran. She’d folded it and put it into Naomi’s bag on – yes, on Monday. She hadn’t seen her daughter for four days.
‘It feels as if we’re running along three steps behind him all the time,’ she said, the pain back in her chest. Oh God – perhaps her heart was broken. ‘This doesn’t bring us any further forward at all.’
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