Chapter Twenty-Nine
Daniel
The air in Judith’s kitchen is thick with the scent of roast beef and potatoes, but it’s the absence of Jo that weighs heaviest. Sundays used to be a ritual at Hawthorn Lodge, filled with laughter, good food, and expensive wine, but today, it’s different.
Jo’s voice is missing, and the kidnapper’s silence amplifies the tension.
We tiptoe around the unspeakable, avoiding the dark possibilities that loom in our minds.
Outside, Donald and Joel kick a ball around the sprawling lawn. Jo would have been out there too, her phone capturing every moment, hundreds of photos preserving our shared memories.
Suddenly, a loud bang from the kitchen startles me. Julia’s frustration echoes throughout the house as she slams cupboard doors. ‘Where is it?’ she says irritably.
‘Where’s what?’
‘The bloody gravy jug. For God’s sake, you’d think a house this size…’
‘You’ve already made the gravy, Julia,’ I say, pointing to the jug on the counter.
She looks at the jug, bursts into tears and collapses into a chair.
‘Why hasn’t he phoned?’ she asks pleadingly.
‘I don’t know.’ It’s all I can think of to say.
She grabs me by the arm. ‘Please, don’t let Donald ask for proof again. We can’t delay things any longer.’
I glance out through the window again and see Donald swinging Joel in the air. He would kill me if he knew I’d spoken to the police. But I owe them the truth. It’s their daughter who’s missing.
I see Donald heading back to the house, and I am bracing myself to tell him the news when my phone rings. I see Julia’s hands tremble. Donald shushes Joel and leads him to the billiards room.
It's an unknown number. ‘Hello,’ I say hesitantly.
‘Be at the library in Summertown tomorrow at eleven. Don’t look around. There’s an unused phone box outside. Idiots leave books in there. Leave the envelope between the books. I’ll be watching. Leave right away.’
‘Unused phone box,’ I repeat.
‘Act casual, you know, look at the books.’
‘And my wife, when will you let her go?’
‘One step at a time, Mr Neal.’
He hangs up.
Donald walks in as soon as I finish talking. He gives me a questioning look.
‘Tomorrow at eleven,’ I say.
‘I’ll get the money ready after lunch.’
We try to act normal for Joel’s sake and sit down for lunch. I compliment Julia on the beef, but we all feel the emptiness of Jo’s absence. Everything is going as well as it can until Joel says, ‘Mummy,’ and looks around.
Julia immediately runs out of the room, and it's then that I realise the worst thing I can do is tell them about DI Burrow.
***
That evening, I’m back at my flat. ‘Where’s the drop-off?’ DI Burrow asks.
‘Unused phone box outside Summertown library. He said he’ll be watching, so if he sees you lot…’
‘He won’t.’
I tell him the drop-off time is eleven, and insist over and over again that I don’t want any cock ups. ‘This is our last chance to get her back.’
‘I’ll come by this evening to go over everything with you.’
I then phone Nic and ask if he can cover for me the next day.
‘Jesus, man. What are you playing at?’
‘I have a new client, a big one. I’ll include you in this. After all, it was your recommendation.’
I can hear some sports commentary coming from his TV. ‘Oh yeah, who?’
‘Jo’s calling me. Better go.’
He laughs. ‘I’ll tell them you’ve got the shits. When will you be in?’
‘About midday, maybe before.’
‘No problems, man.’
The rest of the evening is a nightmare. Joel starts getting upset and flies into a tantrum, wanting to know where his mother is.
I keep telling him she is working in another country.
The room reverberates with his anguished screams, and each scream pierces me.
My nerves are jangled, frayed by the relentless onslaught.
I clutch the phone, faking a call to Mummy, but the silence on the other end mocks me.
‘She’s not answering,’ I say.
Desperation drives me to call Gil. She has a way with words and an imagination that dances where mine stumbles.
‘I’m working,’ she says. ‘Try Nicola.’
Nicola arrives and is so sweet that guilt overwhelms me when I remember my rudeness.
She tells him about Mummy’s broken phone and that instead of calling, she has sent a letter and a postcard from Paris.
Together, they read the phantom postcard and letter, its imaginary ink seeping into his dreams. He clings to it as if the paper holds salvation.
‘Thank you,’ I murmur. ‘The Paris postcard idea was brilliant.’
‘One I brought back a few years ago,’ Nicola confesses. She lowers her eyes. ‘You might have to tell him the truth,’ she whispers.
‘I know,’ I say, and then see her out.
DI Burrow arrives promptly at nine. His hat is pulled low, shadowing his features. Beside him stands a young woman with long dark hair.
‘This is Lily,’ Burrow says, motioning to her. ‘She’ll be stationed in the pet shop across from the phone box tomorrow. I wanted her to meet you beforehand.’
‘You didn’t mention this,’ I say sharply. ‘I don’t want anyone too close.’
‘She’ll be discreet,’ he assures me. ‘Her job is to get a description and note the car registration.’
Lily steps forward with a polite nod. ‘Hello, Mr Neal. I’m very sorry about your wife.’
Burrow’s tone becomes more urgent as he leans in. ‘We need you to wear a wire.’
I recoil instinctively. ‘No.’
‘It’ll be expertly hidden,’ he insists. ‘No one will know. Trust me, Daniel. As soon as he collects the money, we’ll follow him. You drive home as normal. We’ll stay in touch.’
‘Why do I need a wire?’
‘It’s a safety net. If anything changes at the last minute or something goes wrong, we’ll hear it. It keeps you safe.’
At the end of the hall, Joel still sleeps, unaware of the tension crackling below. My temples throb from wine and a night without rest.
Burrow demonstrates how to attach the wire. ‘We’ll be tracking your phone, too,’ he adds. ‘Keep it on. If he alters the plan, we need to adapt immediately.’
He sees my hesitation.
‘Trust us,’ he says. ‘We’ve done this before.’
I nod. It seems I no longer have much say in any of this.
***
Gil calls later.
‘Tomorrow is the drop-off day,’ I confide.
‘Oh, please, God, we’ll get her back. It’s getting so hard at the hospital. People want to visit her. One gave her a large bouquet. You may have to write a thank you note.’
There’s a second of silence before she asks the weightiest question of all. ‘Did he mention her release?’
‘He plays games,’ I tell her. I scoff. ‘“One step at a time, Mr Neal,” he says. I almost told Donald and Julia about the police, but Julia was teetering on the edge.’
‘Aren’t we all?’ Gil’s voice is cracking, and she sighs.
‘You’ve been marvellous,’ I confess. ‘I’ve been a bit of a shit. I’m sorry.’
‘Forget it,’ she says. ‘Perhaps tomorrow, we’ll have Jo back.’