Val McDermid - The Vanishing Point

‘Only the one from Chicago.’

Nick nodded impatiently. ‘But for someone who knows you’re coming from the UK, it’s not hard to work out roughly when you’d be going through security for that onward flight. Have you got an account at 24/7?’

‘Yeah, I’ve had it for ever. I use it all the time. It’s brilliant for weekend trips. We should do that one of these days.’ She could feel herself blushing. This relationship still felt new enough for it to be novel for her to suggest the kind of activities that went hand in hand with commitment.

‘I’d like that. But am I right in thinking pretty much anyone in your circle would know you use them?’

‘I suppose. I never gave it much thought.’

‘And what’s your password?’

‘Dignan97. That was the first ghosting job I did, and the year I did it.’

‘And pretty much anyone in your circle could figure that out.’ He bit into his sandwich fiercely.

A sense of unease made Stephanie uncomfortable. ‘Nobody I know would be involved in this,’ she said.

‘You thought Pete might be,’ Nick said through a mouthful of bagel.

There was a long silence. ‘I don’t make a habit of creating enemies,’ Stephanie said. ‘Apart from Pete, I can’t think of anybody I’ve pissed off in the sort of way that would provoke this kind of response. I mean, when I annoy someone, it’s usually because I’ve said no to a project. And that’s just business,’ she added, upset that Nick could imagine her life as a landscape studded with angry, vengeful people.

‘I don’t mean to suggest that you go around hurting people,’ he said. ‘But there are a lot of fucked-up minds out there. Weirdos who look at the world differently to the rest of us. Who see slights and insults everywhere. It’s not impossible that somebody like that has found their way into the fringes of your life.’

Stephanie sighed. ‘That’s a horrible thought. I don’t want to start looking at my friends like they’re suspects in a major crime.’

‘Nobody does. But somebody did this, Steph. Somebody has taken Jimmy. And I think there’s still every chance we can get him back alive. Here’s another silver lining for you. Because this was targeted and not random, I think it’s very unlikely that Jimmy’s been taken by a paedophile killer. For those people, any kid will do. For whoever took Jimmy, his identity was important.’

‘That’s why I wondered about Megan the Stalker. I know you said she’s out of the picture, but there must have been other nutters obsessed with Scarlett that we don’t know about.’

‘Which is why I’m interested in people who are relatively new to your circle,’ Nick said. ‘If they saw Jimmy as the continuation of Scarlett, if they saw you as the way to Jimmy, they could have hacked your 24/7 account and found out the details of your trip weeks in advance. Plenty of time to get their ducks in a row.’

Stephanie got up and refilled her coffee. ‘I hate the very idea of this. That you think someone has wormed their way into our lives just to steal Jimmy away . . . it’s vile, Nick.’

He couldn’t meet her eyes when she sat down again. She imagined he knew too much about what human beings were capable of, that this plugged into all his worst nightmares. ‘It is vile. Who else besides you would know of anyone who had an unhealthy interest in Scarlett or Jimmy?’

‘Marina would be the obvious one. She looked after Jimmy from the start. Scarlett relied on her for everything practical. She was effectively the housekeeper.’ Stephanie absently picked up her sandwich and took a bite. ‘And Leanne, I suppose.’

Nick frowned. ‘Remind me about Leanne. I don’t think I ever heard the full story.’

So Stephanie told him. The body double, the loose lips, the exile to Spain, the final argument over Jimmy and the refusal to embrace hypocrisy to come to the funeral. Nick listened attentively. Then he spoke in careful, measured tones. ‘You’re telling me she thought she should have custody of Jimmy?’

‘I don’t think she meant it,’ Stephanie said. ‘In that respect, she was like Chrissie and Jade. She saw it as a way to get her hands on Scarlett’s money. She already had the house and the business, but she wanted more. She loved her life in Spain, and having a kid would have seriously cramped her style. Both work and play.’

‘All the same, we should check her out. Have you got contact details?’

Stephanie nodded. ‘I haven’t spoken to her since she stormed back to Spain, but I don’t expect she’s moved. She had the perfect set-up there.’

Nick looked slightly worried. ‘You didn’t call her when Scarlett died? You didn’t ask her to come to the funeral?’

‘It was Simon who spoke to her. I meant to give her a ring, but everything was too chaotic, I never got round to it. I had a Christmas card from her, though. She said she was having a good time and that we should come and visit.’

Nick nodded slowly. ‘You know what, Steph? I think you and me could really use a weekend break in Spain.’

She could see the way his mind was working and, though it made her uncomfortable, she couldn’t blame him. Once he met Leanne for himself, he’d see that organising a subtle and complex abduction simply wasn’t her style.

Of course he would.

2

Stepping out of Malaga airport was like walking into a blast furnace. The dry heat almost took Stephanie’s breath away. By the time they got the air conditioning cranked up on the hire car, her dress was sticking to her back and she could see a trickle of sweat running down Nick’s hairline. She wondered whether it was racist to consider that his looks were better suited to Mediterranean sunshine than grey English weather. Whatever. She thought he definitely looked more glamorous in his white linen shirt and cargo shorts, sunglasses pushed back on the top of his head. Whereas she probably just looked hot and bothered.

Thanks to Google maps, they’d easily planned their route to Leanne’s house in the foothills behind the coastal strip. Nick had reckoned it would take about half an hour. Stephanie, who had spent a while in Spain interviewing a golfer, a retired soap star and a comedian, thought it would probably be nearer an hour, given the Spanish roads and the tourist drivers. At least it would be pretty once they’d cleared the airport and its immediate surroundings.

The villa Scarlett had bought for Leanne was on a quiet side road in a small township which had clearly grown around an elderly village. A couple of streets of old buildings had been ambushed by brilliant white houses with terracotta roofs. The turquoise glint of swimming pools caught Stephanie’s eye as they neared their destination. It looked like a prosperous settlement, somnolent in the late morning heat.

The gates of Leanne’s house were open, which didn’t surprise Stephanie. After all, Leanne was running a business from here, albeit there was no sign at the gates to indicate that. Maybe she was trying to avoid the local taxman, working word-of-mouth and cash in hand. They pulled in next to a silver Mercedes A-class. They’d agreed not to phone ahead and put Leanne on her guard, so it was a relief to see signs of life. ‘Must be money in this manicure business,’ Nick said.

The heat was less oppressive now they were on higher ground, but Stephanie still felt it was better suited to lying on a sunbed than playing at private investigations. Then she thought of Jimmy, ripped out of his old life and facing who knew what terrors, and mentally scolded herself. Whatever the rigours of a hot day in Spain, they faded into insignificance beside the catalogue of loss Jimmy had known. She had an unbidden flash of memory – the delight on his face when, zipped into his first wet suit, he’d swum in the sea off Brighton. He’d splashed through the gentle swell then thrown himself into her arms, giggling in delight. All she wanted was a collection of moments like that. For both of them.