The tea was made and presented to them all. Casey took one sip of hers and choked.
“Oh, sorry,” said Gemma. “I always forget you don’t take sugar.”
There was something in her voice that made Kate’s internal sensor light up. Not mockery, not exactly. There was something though. Kate scribbled more mental notes.
Nick Fullman had been given coffee, rather than tea, in an elegant white china cup. He’d swallowed it in three gulps. Kate noted the dark shadows under his eyes and the faint jittery shudder of his fingers. A caffeine addict? An insomniac? Or something else?
“I heard nothing,” he was saying in response to Anderton’s question. “I was sleeping. I sleep pretty heavily, and the first I knew about anything was Casey screaming down the hallway. I ran down and saw, well, saw Dita on the floor. “
“Do you have any theories as to who might have taken your son?”
Casey let out a small moan. Nick pulled her closer to him.
“None whatsoever. I can’t believe anyone–” His voice faltered for a second. “I can’t believe anyone would do such a thing.”
“No one has made any threats against you or your family recently?”
“Of course not.”
“Who has access to the house? Do you keep any staff?”
Fullman frowned. “What do you mean by access?”
“Well, keys specifically. But also anyone who is permitted to enter the house, particularly on a regular basis.”
“I’ll have to think.” Fullman was silent for a moment. He looked at his personal assistant. “Gemma, you couldn’t be a star and make another coffee, could you?”
“Of course.” Gemma almost jumped from her chair to fulfil his request.
Fullman turned back to the police officers.
“Casey and I have keys, of course. Gemma has a set to the house, although not to the outbuildings, I don’t think.”
“That’s right,” called Gemma from the kitchen. “Just the house.”
“What about Miss Olgweisch?”
Fullman dropped his eyes to the floor. “Yes, Dita had a full set.”
“Anyone else?”
Casey raised her head from her husband’s shoulder.
“My mum’s got a front door key,” she said, her voice hoarse. “She knows the key codes and all that.”
“Ah, yes,” said Anderton. “The security. Presumably all the people who have keys also have security codes and so forth?”
Fullman nodded. “That’s right. There’s an access code on the main gate and the alarm code for the house.”
Kate and Olbeck exchanged glances. Whoever had taken the baby hadn’t set off any of the alarms.
Casey pushed herself upright.
“What are you doing to find him?” she begged. “Why are we sat here answering all these questions when we should be out there looking for him?”
“Mrs Fullman,” said Anderton in a steady tone. “I really do know how desperate you must be feeling. My officers are out there on your land combing every inch of it for clues to Charlie’s whereabouts. We just have to try and ascertain a few basic facts so we can think of the best way to move forward as quickly as possible.”
“It’s just…” Casey’s voice trailed away. Kate addressed her husband.
“Mr Fullman, is there anyone who could come and give your wife some support? Give you both some support? Her mother, perhaps?”
Fullman grimaced. “I suppose so. Case, shall I ring your mum?” His wife nodded, mutely, and he stood up. “I’ll go and ring her then.”
He headed back outside to the terrace, clearly relieved to be escaping the kitchen. Olbeck looked at Kate and raised his eyebrows very slightly. She nodded, just as subtly.
“You two look around,” said Anderton. “DS Redman, I’d like you to talk to Ms Phillips once you’re done. DS Olbeck, go and see how the search is progressing. I want the neighbours questioned before too long.”
The house was newly built, probably less than ten years old. It was a sprawling low building, cedar-clad and white-rendered, technically built on several different levels but as the ground had been dug away and landscaped around it, the house looked like nothing so much as a very expensive bungalow. Or so Kate thought, walking around the perimeter with Olbeck. They had checked the layout of the bedrooms, noting the distance of the baby’s nursery from the Fullman’s bedroom.
“Why wasn’t the baby in their room?” asked Kate.
Olbeck glanced at her. “Should he have been?”
“I think that’s the standard advice. Everyone I know with tiny babies keeps them in their own bedrooms. Sometimes in their beds. Not stuck down the end of the corridor.”
“I don’t know,” said Olbeck. “The nanny was right next door.”
Dita Olgweisch’s room and the nursery were still sealed off by the Scene of Crime team gathering evidence. Kate stood back for a second to let a SOCO past her, rustling along in white overalls.
“I’ll ask Mrs Fullman when she’s feeling up to it,” she said. “Perhaps there was a simple explanation.”
The view from the terrace was undeniably lovely. The ground dropped steeply away from the decking and the lawn ended in a semi-circle of woodland; beech, ash, and oak trees all stood as if on guard around the grass. Kate could see the movements of the uniformed officers as they carried out their fingertip search. Olbeck came up beside her and they both stood looking out on the scene. Kate wondered if he was thinking what she was thinking – that somewhere out in those peaceful looking woods was a tiny child’s body. Her stomach clenched.
“I’ve never worked on a child case before,” said Olbeck abruptly. Kate turned her head, surprised. “Murder, obviously. But never a child.”
“We don’t know that the baby’s…” Kate didn’t want to finish the sentence.
“I know.” They were both silent for a moment. “I hope you’re right. God, I hope you’re right.”
There didn’t seem to be much else to say. They both had things to do, but for another moment, they stood quietly, side by side, looking out at the swaying, leafless branches of the trees.
***
Read the rest of Hushabye (A Kate Redman Mystery) on Amazon Kindle now.
Celina’s psychological thriller, Lost Girls is available from Amazon.
Twenty-three years ago, Maudie Sampson’s childhood friend Jessica disappeared on a family holiday in Cornwall. She was never seen again.
In the present day, Maudie is struggling to come to terms with the death of her wealthy father, her increasingly fragile mental health and a marriage that’s under strain. Slowly, she becomes aware that there is someone following her: a blonde woman in a long black coat with an intense gaze. As the woman begins to infiltrate her life, Maudie realises no one else appears to be able to see her.
Is Maudie losing her mind? Is the woman a figment of her imagination or does she actually exist? Have the sins of the past caught up with Maudie’s present...or is there something even more sinister going on?
Lost Girls is the new novel from the author of The House on Fever Street: a dark and convoluted tale which proves that nothing can be taken for granted and no-one is as they seem.