Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
Keswick, Cumbria
When Quinn woke, she had a missed call from Rhys from the night before, but nothing from Logan.
At this stage, she wasn’t even expecting to hear from him, not really, but she was still hopeful.
She would drive into Keswick after breakfast and check in at the police station.
She was eager to speak to DI Malone, but also terribly nervous, and wished Gabe could come with her for moral support, but they could hardly bring the kids.
And it would take all of Gabe’s attention and patience to deal with four restless children who didn’t have their devices to fall back on.
“Maybe you should take them for a walk,” Quinn suggested when they discussed their plans over breakfast. It was a beautiful day, and there was a path that wound around the lake.
“I’ll see what the kids want to do,” Gabe said noncommittally.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Quinn promised.
She spotted Emma watching from the window as she climbed into the car.
The girl looked frightened and tense, and Quinn hated that she had caused her such worry.
When a child lost someone they loved early on, their sense of invincibility was stripped away forever, their mind quietly reminding them that anything could happen at any moment.
Unlike most girls her age, who still believed that nothing truly terrible could touch them, Emma knew better.
She understood all too well that things did not always turn out all right, and people didn’t always come back.
Quinn rang DI Malone as soon as she was on the road.
“Thanks for calling,” he said gruffly. “I’ll get in touch with the station, so they will be expecting you when you arrive.”
The detective could have spoken to Quinn over the phone, but she suspected he wanted to see her face and gauge her reactions and body language.
For all DI Malone knew, Quinn was in on Logan’s plan and was working to clear the path for him.
But the path to what? If only she knew what he was up to.
Logan had seemed completely himself in the days leading up to his disappearance, and he had responded to Emma’s text that very afternoon.
Perhaps he had been hiding something, but her instinct told Quinn that whatever had occurred had been unexpected, and Logan had had no other option but to react.
When she arrived at the police station, Quinn gave her name and showed her ID to the desk sergeant.
Once her identity was verified, she was escorted to a small office equipped with a desk, two chairs, and a computer monitor.
A young plainclothes policewoman, who introduced herself as DS Coyle, stepped inside and took a seat next to Quinn.
She had chestnut hair, soft brown eyes, and a pleasant smile.
The DS wore a gray trouser suit, and her hair was parted on the side and pulled into a bun.
To Quinn, she looked like a banker or an IT specialist, but she was sure the detective sergeant had put in her hours on the street and had earned her promotion.
“Someone from this station must be present during the interview,” DS Coyle explained.
Quinn found her presence comforting and thought the officer was there for Quinn’s protection as well, since she would hear everything that was said and could be called upon to testify if Quinn’s responses were in any way twisted to fit DI Malone’s narrative.
DS Coyle turned on the monitor, accessed the correct screen, then clicked on the link DI Malone had sent through once it was time for the interview.
Malone appeared on the screen a few moments later.
The detective looked to be in his forties and had thinning brown hair, dark eyes that were magnified by the lenses of his rectangular frames, and a fleshy face.
He had a ruddy complexion and a thick neck that was almost entirely obscured by the collar of his blue shirt.
He wore a striped tie and an Apple Watch.
“Good morning, Mrs. Russell,” he said. His tone was polite but not overly friendly.
“Please, call me Quinn.”
“All right. Quinn.” Malone did not smile to put her at ease. In fact, he looked suspicious and stern. “Have you had any more communications from your brother since the text message you received on the morning after his disappearance?”
“I have not.”
“Did he ever mention someone stalking him or sending him threatening messages?”
“No, never.”
“So, everything appeared to be perfectly normal until he’d suddenly done a bunk?” Malone asked.
“Yes.”
“Was he worried about anything?” the DI asked. “Money, perhaps?”
“As far as I know, Logan was comfortably off, especially since…” Quinn’s voice trailed away.
“Since what?”
“Since his… our mother died. She owned a house and had investments and savings.”
“Did everything come to him?” Malone asked.
“No, her assets were divided between her two sons.”
“What about you? Were you not included in her will?”
Quinn sighed. “My mother and I hadn’t known each other very long. She gave me up at birth, and we had only recently connected. Sylvia died at the start of the pandemic. She did not have time to make changes to her will.”
“Did you feel resentful towards your brothers for not cutting you in?”
“Are you suggesting I murdered Logan and disposed of his body to get my hands on his money?” Quinn snapped.
“You said it, not me,” Malone said with a shrug. “So, you don’t think this is about money?”
“I honestly don’t know what to think.”
Quinn was taken aback by the man’s unpleasant demeanor.
He wasn’t antagonistic, exactly, but he wasn’t sympathetic or friendly either.
Perhaps he needed to get her measure before he arrived at any conclusions, or maybe he was just a disagreeable and suspicious person.
Mistrust came with the job, and, aside from Sean Cadogan’s endorsement, he had no reason to trust her.
The detective’s expression suddenly softened. “There’s been a development in the case,” he said.
“What sort of development?”
“Logan’s car was found in Ealing. It was burned out.”
“Was there…?” Quinn couldn’t bring herself to articulate what she was asking. Saying the words out loud made them all too real. Malone immediately understood, though.
“There was no body. And we weren’t able to get anything from CCTV. The lot where the car was dumped doesn’t have CCTV, and the traffic cameras picked up someone driving the vehicle, but it was impossible to say with any certainty if the driver was Logan Wyatt.”
“What about the man and woman connected to the case? Were you able to identify them?”
“Without a name, a clear image, or a way to determine how they knew your brother, it will take time.”
“So, what are you going to do?” Quinn asked. She hadn’t meant to sound accusing, but her family could be in danger, and she was justifiably afraid.
DI Malone was clearly trying to look sympathetic. “Because someone tried to abduct Max, we have to assume that these people are either after the child or intended to use him as leverage. Which is why I need to ask you a few personal questions about Logan.”
Quinn sighed. She knew where this was heading. “Go on.”
“It is my understanding that when Max was born, Logan was still with his partner.”
“Yes. He and Rafe parted ways three years ago.”
“Might Rafe want the child?”
“He never expressed an interest in remaining part of Max’s life.”
“Is Logan Max’s biological father?” Malone asked.
“He is.”
“And the mother?”
“Logan and Rafe used a surrogate.”
“And a donor egg?”
“No. Chrissy is Max’s biological mother.”
“Interesting,” DI Malone said under his breath. “Is it possible that Chrissy wants her son back?”
“She relinquished all rights and returned to the Czech Republic not long after Max was born. As far as I know, Logan and Chrissy have not been in touch since she left.”
“Do you have contact information for her?”
“I do not.”
“Do you at least know her surname?” DI Malone asked.
“No.”
“What about Rafe? Would he know how to find her?”
“You’d have to ask him.”
“Is Logan involved with someone new?” the detective inquired.
“I don’t believe so. And even if he was, why would they want to take Max?”
“I know it’s upsetting, Quinn, but I must understand every aspect of Logan’s life if I’m to find out what happened to him.”
Quinn took a calming breath. “I honestly don’t know, Detective.
As a rule, Logan is not a secretive person, but we all keep things to ourselves, don’t we?
And he’s already been hurt. Perhaps he was seeing someone but didn’t want to tell anyone until he was certain the person was someone special and they had a future together. ”
“Might Max know?”
“I don’t think we should ask a five-year-old if his dad was seeing anyone.”
DI Malone sighed. “Well, I wouldn’t put it to him that way. But he might know if someone had been to the house or had spent the night.”
“I would really rather you didn’t question him,” Quinn said.
“Fair enough. I’m going to have a word with Rafe and Chrissy and see if anything shakes out.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then we will explore other avenues of inquiry. At the moment, this is all we really have.”
“Can we go home?” Quinn asked.
“You can, but we can’t offer you protection, not unless we have reason to believe there’s a credible threat. The best I can do is make sure a patrol car passes your house several times a day.”
“Someone tried to take Max,” Quinn reminded him.
“Which is why we’re taking this very seriously. Do let me know what you decide.”
Quinn considered the situation. “We’re going to remain here until Sunday afternoon, as planned.”
“I think that’s a good idea. Please contact the local police department if you feel in any way threatened.”
“I will,” Quinn said and watched DI Malone disappear and the screen go dark.
If she had hoped that DI Malone would somehow reassure her, she felt even more at sea after speaking to him.
And DS Coyle didn’t have much to add, but then this wasn’t her case.
She was there as a matter of professional courtesy.
The policewoman escorted Quinn into the reception area, handed her a card with a number to call should anything occur, and sent her on her way.
Quinn had just got in the car when Jude rang. She told him everything she had learned, and by the time she finished, she was crying, her vision too blurred by tears to drive.
“I’m coming, Quinn,” Jude said. “I can’t leave until tomorrow morning, but I should be with you by tomorrow afternoon. Tomorrow evening at the latest. You can’t deal with this alone, and Max needs all the protection he can get. Does he have a passport?”
“Logan took him on holiday to Greece last year.”
“Do you have a key to Logan’s house?” Jude asked.
“Yes, he gave me a key in case of emergency.”
“Well, I’d say this qualifies,” Jude said with a bitter chuckle. “Do you have it on you?”
“No, it’s at home.”
“Right. I actually have a spare key,” he seemed to suddenly recall.
“Logan gave it to me when he first bought the house, in case I arrive in London and need a place to crash. I will go to Logan’s and look for Max’s passport.
And then I will take him back to Germany.
No one will be able to get to him at the base. ”
“I suppose that’s one option.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“To wait and see what DI Malone turns up.”
“I’ll get the passport, but we’ll wait until Sunday to make any decisions. That gives us a few days.”
“All right, then,” Quinn agreed. “Sunday.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, sis. Give me the address, and I’ll come to you.”
“Thanks, Jude. I can’t wait to see you,” Quinn said after she had told him where they were staying.
“I just wish it was under happier circumstances,” Jude said and rang off.
Quinn pulled a tissue from her bag and dried her eyes.
It made her feel better that Jude was coming, and Max would be happy to see his uncle.
And if Logan didn’t turn up, taking Max to Germany might prove a good solution, since Quinn didn’t have the resources to keep him safe.
What put her off was the conversation with DI Malone.
Despite Sean Cadogan’s recommendation, she didn’t have a good feeling about the man.
There was just something about him that didn’t inspire confidence.
Perhaps it was his demeanor, or maybe it was that Quinn didn’t believe he really cared about solving the case.
She got the feeling that he was just going through the motions and would tick all the right boxes until he could set the file aside.
But there was someone she liked and trusted, a private inquiry agent who’d consistently delivered results in the past. Quinn hadn’t spoken to Drew Camden since Brett had been convicted and sent to prison—thankfully, there had been no need—but she thought of Drew now.
A lot could happen to a middle-aged man in five years, and the last few years had been like no other that any of them had ever lived through personally.
But she had nothing to lose by trying, so she pulled up Drew’s number and made the call.