I shot up in bed, awakened by the shrill alarm.
I grabbed the closest thing to me, the bedside lamp, ready to use it as a weapon. It was only then that I realised the noise was my weekday alarm. My six-thirty wake up call, as usual. Except there was nothing usual about the day at all. At nine-thirty, I would be speaking at a press conference publicising my daughter’s disappearance for the national news. And to think I used to moan about just going to work on a Monday morning.
I slumped up against the headboard and stared at the clock. I’d spent half the night reading through all the CSE research from the box files, then the second half in a fitful state of sleep, my dreams invaded by the horrors of what I’d been reading. I rubbed my eyes, still blurred from hazy sleep. I’d slept for a solid hour between three and four, then I’d woken up in a sweat after dreaming of Teigan. The last thing I remembered was her hand slipping out of my grasp and the sound of a scream.
I forced myself out of bed; tormenting myself wasn’t going to do any good. As I staggered down the stairs in search of caffeine, I caught a whiff of my body odour. I really was going to have to shower. I couldn’t turn up at the press conference looking like a beggar — that certainly wouldn’t make me attractive to the public. Annie would be mortified.
I put the kettle on and leant against the kitchen work surface while I waited for it to come to the boil. Once it was ready, I added two sugars — I needed them today — and started sipping the hot, sweet liquid. I thought back to the first time Teigan had tried tea, which I’d made milky with two sugars just like today’s. She’d been ten years old and had been desperate to try, as I was always drinking the stuff. She’d had it in her “Little Miss Trouble” mug and had loved it from the first sip. Soon after, to celebrate getting in to the secondary school we wanted, I had taken her for an afternoon tea at Jarrolds. We’d drunk sweet tea and had eaten scones with fruity jam and rich chocolate cakes with a toffee glaze. I became lost in the memories of those precious mother-daughter times, and when I eventually thought to check the time, I realised it was half past seven already. I had to get a move on.
I fumbled around in my handbag, still strewn on the floor in the middle room, and dialed Hilary’s number. Practicalities first.
“Hello? Hilary?” The reception was bad, the line crackling at the other end.
“Hello? Is that you, Suzanne?”
She was outside somewhere. I could hear the muffled sound of traffic and the wind. She was probably already on her way into the office. “Hilary? Can you hear me?”
“Yes, yes, I can hear you. How are you doing?”
I opened my mouth to explain, then paused. How are you doing? There’s a clear difference between a simple “How are you?” and an I’m-so-sorry-how-are-you-coping “How are you doing?”
Did she know? How? Just before my brain went into overdrive, I remembered what DS Clarke had said. Teigan’s case had already hit the local news Saturday morning. That’s how she knew. It was only then that it dawned on me who else might know. The families I work with. I grimaced. “She comes round here telling us we’re bad parents, and she can’t even keep track of her own kid!”
“I suppose you’ve seen Teigan’s gone missing.” It was the first time I’d said it out loud to somebody. My voice cracked, as I had known it would.
“I know, Suzanne. I’m so sorry. Don’t worry, I’m already on it. I spent last night figuring out who can take on some of your cases. Some of them will just have to go onto the emergency duty list, but Danny can take the O’Connells. I’m thinking Sandra can have Carly Dannot and the new Miller case. You know, that police officer sort of reminded me of Mr Miller actually.”
“Wait, what?”
“I know you’ve been working hard on the Woodsons, so maybe Terry can pick that up.”
“Hilary, wait a minute.”
“Yes?”
“What police officer are you talking about? Did he give a statement on the local news?” I wasn’t aware of that. If I had been, I’d have wanted to know what he was going to say before it aired. I assumed it was just the local newswoman talking about when Teigan was last seen and putting that picture of her up on the screen.
“The local news? Oh, no, dear, he came to see me. Him and that blonde woman. I thought you knew.” She sounded flustered, like a child caught out by their parent. “They came to see me yesterday, just to check that you were at work Thursday and Friday. I’m sure it’s standard procedure to confirm your alibi, nothing to worry about.”
My stomach clenched at the mention of alibis. It sounded so guilty.
“Oh, right. They were happy that everything made sense, were they?”
I heard Hilary pause at the other end of the line. My heart plummeted. What had she said?
“Well, pretty much. There was a small discrepancy between when they thought you left your house Thursday morning and when I said you arrived at work.” Her voice was uncharacteristically sheepish, like she’d just dobbed someone in. “But that could be traffic or anything.”
I let go of the kitchen counter and allowed myself to slip down onto the floor, the phone still pressed to my ear. “Yeah … yeah, I did hit bad traffic that morning.”
It was the first time I’d lied to Hilary.