Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
Quinn strode down the dock, determined to speak to Sean in private.
The children were unsettled enough already, and she didn’t want them overhearing the conversation.
The narrow dock jutted out over the lake like a pirate ship’s plank, and she stopped at the very end, far enough from the house that she wouldn’t be heard.
The sky was darkening, the first stars of evening twinkling in the lake’s mirrored surface.
The island—now little more than a shadowy hillock—seemed to crouch like some furry beast, its back hunched, its head bent towards the water.
Quinn knew she was being fanciful, but she was utterly alone, and even the reassuring lights of the main house were obscured by the clump of trees that formed a natural barrier between the boathouse and the rest of the property.
“Are you safe?” Sean asked as soon as Quinn answered the phone.
“Yes. We’re near Keswick, at Montrose Lake House.”
“And Max?”
“As well as can be expected under the circumstances. He misses his dad.”
“I’m sending you a photo,” Sean said. “Look carefully and tell me if you’ve ever seen him before.”
Quinn opened the image and studied the man in the picture.
The photo had been taken from above and in profile, so she couldn’t see his face clearly.
He was lanky and wore jeans, a dark green sweatshirt with some sort of logo on it, and work boots.
A black cap was pulled low over his eyes, but she thought they might be light.
He had a strong nose and a square jaw, and his dark blond hair was cut short at the back and sides.
“I’ve never seen him before,” Quinn said.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. Who is he?”
Sean sounded annoyed. “The colleague I had in mind is running another investigation and was unable to help. I had to tap another former employee, who, truth be told, wasn’t overly keen to get involved.
But he did promise to help. DI Malone pulled CCTV footage from the cameras outside the hospital.
It would appear that this man was waiting for Logan.
He trailed him at a discreet distance once Logan left the hospital after his shift ended at five. He followed him all the way home.”
Quinn gasped at the implications of this. “Sean, Logan could be at home. He might be hurt.”
“He’s not. DI Malone sent two officers to perform a welfare check. They didn’t find Logan, but they found traces of blood and gunshot residue.”
“Can DI Malone not check the cameras near the house? Maybe he could see where Logan went.” Or was taken, Quinn’s mind supplied unhelpfully.
“He did that already. A man driving Logan’s car left the house just before six. He was alone.”
“A man?”
“He was wearing what appears to be the same cap as the chap in the photo and a sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. It was impossible to make out his face.”
“Don’t the Met have facial recognition software?” Quinn exclaimed, and wondered if that was just something they used in crime shows to heighten the drama.
“Retrospective search, which analyzes images pulled from CCTV, can be highly effective when certain criteria are met.”
“And in this case they were not?”
“Even if the cameras caught a clear image of the man’s face, which they did not, he would have to be on a watchlist in order to be identified.”
Quinn felt her exasperation mounting. “So, all DI Malone knows is that one man left Logan’s house on the night he went missing. He does not know if the man driving Logan’s car was in fact Logan, nor does he know what happened to the other person.”
“Quinn, there are no cameras facing either the front or the back of Logan’s house.
The closest cameras are at the junctions, and they caught the image of the car.
Since there was no one at the house when the police went to check, Logan or the man who’d followed him could have left by either the front or the back door and got lost in the crowd. ”
“So, what now?” Quinn asked.
She was suddenly very tired, mired in hopelessness that did not seem likely to lift on its own. She needed something to hold on to, some scrap of encouraging news, or at the very least reassurance that everything possible was being done to find Logan.
“Because Logan is still missing and blood was found at the scene, DI Malone has opened a case into Logan’s disappearance and Max’s attempted abduction.
I’m sending you his contact information.
Ring Malone tomorrow morning. He’ll probably ask you to go to a local station.
They can set up a secure video link so DI Malone can speak to you directly.
And if you spot either the man or the woman in the photos, call the police immediately. ”
“I understand.”
“I will let you know if there are any new developments, but I doubt Malone will keep me looped in on the investigation now that it’s official.”
“Thanks, Sean.”
“Call me anytime. And stay safe,” Sean said and rang off.
Much as she needed time to process what Sean had told her, Quinn didn’t care to remain outside a moment longer.
Night had fallen, and the landscape that had appeared so picturesque only an hour before now seemed to pulse with malevolence.
She shuddered at the possibility of being watched.
What if someone was out there, just biding their time, waiting to snatch Max?
Her trainers thudded dully against the wood of the dock as she sprinted back to the house and locked the door behind her.
Once the children were in bed, Gabe opened the bottle of wine Sam had so thoughtfully provided and poured them each a glass.
He then settled next to Quinn on the sofa and gave her his full attention as she summarized her conversation with Sean and showed Gabe the photo of the man who might be responsible for Logan’s disappearance.
“I can’t even begin to understand what’s happening,” Quinn said after Gabe had looked at the image and handed the phone back to her.
Gabe looked thoughtful. “Perhaps these people want something from Logan and had hoped to use Max as an incentive.”
“But what could they possibly want?”
“Logan works in a hospital and has access to drugs. Opioids, antipsychotics, morphine.”
“Logan would never steal medications.”
“He would if his child’s life were in danger,” Gage pointed out, then another thought seemed to occur to him. “Prisoners are sometimes brought to the hospital for treatment. Perhaps these people were hoping to break out one of their own.”
“Be serious. This is not an episode of Line of Duty.”
“I’m just thinking out loud,” Gabe said, a tad defensively.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m just so rattled.”
“Let’s see what DI Malone has to say when you speak to him tomorrow.”
“What can he say?” Quinn replied. She felt sad and defeated and valiantly fought the tears that threatened to fall if she allowed herself to give in to despair.
“All they seem to know is that a man they cannot identify followed Logan home from the hospital. Something occurred that resulted in one of them shedding blood. An as-yet-unidentified person was seen driving Logan’s car. The end.”
Gabe set down his empty glass and pulled Quinn close. “It’s not the end. It’s the beginning. You have to allow the police to do their jobs.”
Quinn sniffled and swiped at her leaking eyes angrily. “And how long are we supposed to hide out here? A day? A week? A month? Who’s to say they will find anything? What are we to tell Max?”
“I know this is not very helpful, but we have no alternative but to take this day by day.”
“You’re right. It’s not helpful,” Quinn huffed. “I can’t stand the not knowing.”
Gabe kissed the top of her head. “Not knowing also means there’s still hope. Now, come to bed. You’re exhausted and upset. Things will look better in the morning.”
“Will they?” she grumbled.
“Probably not, but we must remain stoic, for Max’s sake, and for the emotional wellbeing of our children.”
Not to mention our own, Quinn thought. “You go on. I need a few minutes.”
Gabe nodded. She didn’t need to spell it out for him. As soon as the bedroom door closed behind him, she pulled out the case containing the earring from her bag and settled in an armchair farthest from the window.
Someone else’s troubles seemed vastly preferable just then.