eleven

Nancy observed the arrival of the forensics team with feelings of resentment. Two men and a woman in casual street clothes, each carrying a large aluminium briefcase. They filed through the back gate and into the kitchen with courteous nods, but she could see the thoughts behind the eyes, knowing that they were judging her. What mother, they were thinking, goes to a gym and leaves her young daughter in the  dubious care of a nanny, while her husband is off somewhere where she can’t even get hold of him?

Screw them, she thought; they don’t know anything about me or my family. And neither, she decided, does the tall, rod-thin woman with the coffee-coloured skin who followed them minutes later, and proceeded to prowl the house like a tiger. She introduced herself as Gina Fraser and announced that she would stay with Nancy until her daughter was returned. For now she wanted to get a feel for the layout of the house and its surroundings.

“Why?” Nancy didn’t want her here any more than the others, and she definitely didn’t care for the cool manner with which she was being studied, like a laboratory specimen on a glass plate.

“Because it’s my job. It’s what I do.” Fraser’s attitude was short on social skills, with a take-it-or-leave-it tone that precluded idle chat. “I’m here to look after you, to make sure you’re safe. To do that I have to know my way around.” Her manner softened momentarily as she added, “You need to be here for when Beth gets back. It’s my job to see that you are.”

“You’re a bodyguard?”

“Yes.”

“Are you armed?”

“Would that bother you?”

“Yes, of course. Why would you need a gun in my house?”

Fraser shrugged. “To shoot anyone who tries to harm you.”

Nancy wasn’t sure if she was joking, but felt herself repelled by the idea. “Just like that?”

“No. I’d probably warn them first. Or not.” A lift of an eyebrow was the only hint she gave that she might not be serious.

Nancy followed her around the house, watching as she tested windows, checked locks and viewed every aspect from the house of the road, garden and neighbouring properties. It looked casual, but she was certain the woman didn’t miss a thing, and began to feel that Fraser, at least, had her best interests at heart, unlike the other people currently burrowing into every aspect of the house, scooping up material, vacuuming the carpets with small, hand-held machines and placing debris she mostly couldn’t see in neat plastic bags.

After a while she broke away from Fraser and watched the team, led by a man who had introduced himself as Jakers. A robust looking individual in his fifties, with steel-grey hair and rimless spectacles, he seemed to look right through her. It made her feel uncomfortable and she broke away after a while and watched from a distance.

“Do you have to go through my things?” she demanded more than once, when drawers were opened and cupboards inspected. “Nothing in there has been touched, I can tell you now.”

“Won’t be long,” Jakers responded each time. “We’ll be out from under your feet in no time.” He might as well have added the words, “if you leave us alone to get on with it.” But he didn’t.

She stopped in the living room in front of a photo of Beth, all smiles and pink-faced. She felt instantly the eruption of tears coming on and rubbed her eyes before they could spill. Breaking down wouldn’t do, not here and now. She had to remain in control and wait for Michael to get here. Then Beth would be returned and everything would go back to normal.

She looked round for her phone, then remembered the American, Vaslik, taking it from the kitchen. She waited until the searchers had moved into the living room, then went through to the kitchen and opened drawers until she found it, lying on top of some tea towels. She had to try Michael’s number again, to tell him what was going on. Not having some kind of contact was driving her out of her mind.

A shadow moved and Fraser appeared behind her like a ghost. “What’s up?”

“I want to try Michael’s phone again.”

“It’s best you don’t,” Fraser replied, and eased the phone out of her hands. “You need to stay off the lines in case they call.”

“They?” She thought Fraser was talking about her two colleagues.

“The people who took Beth.”

Her throat closed tight at the reminder and she felt a momentary panic at not being able to breathe. She swallowed hard to regain control, then said, “How would they? They don’t know the numbers.”

“You think?” Fraser cocked her head to one side. “They got close enough to take the battery out of your phone. I think they’ll have the number of your landline, too.”

Nancy backed off, suddenly reminded that whoever had taken Beth had somehow managed to worm their way into every aspect of her life and routine. Fraser was right: they had controlled her phone, so what else had they managed to take over?

She went into her bedroom where the team had just finished searching. Everything had been put back neatly enough, but there were the inevitable signs that nothing was as it had been before, the subtle differences in layout showing that somebody other than herself had been here.

It was a further reminder that her life had changed, and there was nothing she could do about it but wait and put her trust in divine providence.

Not like the woman, Gonzales; a strong woman, assured and forthright, who probably never experienced a moment of doubt. She wouldn’t baulk at such events, but would know precisely what to do to fight back.

She found herself almost envying her that strength. But she countered it by thinking that Gonzales didn’t have somebody like Michael in her life. Or Beth.

She sat on the bed, feeling utterly alone, wondering what was going to happen … and what kind of catalyst had brought this nightmare onto her and her family.