Most people would feel embarrassed being driven home in the back of a police car. But right now, I couldn’t care less. Who do I know around here anyway? Only Nick. My big sister is thousands of miles away. The only thought on my mind is getting back to Michael’s house, climbing those gates and pulling my daughter out of there.
In the end, the police had to handcuff me. I still tried to open the police car from inside, but it didn’t work – there were child locks.
We’re cruising past the village post office. Heads turn. It’s unusual to see a police car around here.
‘You think you’re on the side of truth and justice,’ I tell the police officers. ‘But you’re just a bunch of pawns being moved around by a chess player.’ I glare out of the window. ‘He’s got us all playing his game. Again.’
The police remain silent. I’m sure they’ve heard worse insults in their time.
‘My van.’ I sit upright. ‘I left my workshop van outside his property. You have to drive me back.’
The policewoman turns around. ‘You’d be trespassing, madam. The road to Mr Ray’s house is private property. We’ll have a police officer bring your van home. Just leave us the keys.’
‘That van belongs to me. You have to let me get it.’
The policewoman puts up a hand to stop her colleague replying. ‘If you’re not happy with us driving your van, send a friend for it. Maybe your partner? I’d recommend you staying away from Mr Ray’s house right now.’
‘Mr Ray is not his real name,’ I say. ‘It’s all fake. Everything about him is fake.’
‘I’d be careful if I were you,’ says the policewoman. ‘Mr Ray can file for a restraining order if you cause too much of a nuisance. You don’t want something like that on your record.’
My eyes squeeze together. ‘He saw me coming a mile off today. Of course he did. You’ve been primed. That’s what he’s done. He’s prepped you. Had you ready and waiting for me.’
‘Mr Ray didn’t contact us,’ says the policewoman. ‘His wife did.’
‘He put her up to it.’ I turn to the window again.
‘I think you need to go home and have a nice rest.’
I won’t rest until I get my daughter back.
The police car drives further down the village high street, past the small supermarket, past the playground. A woman chasing a toddler down the street turns as we passes. I recognize her; she’s a teaching assistant from Liberty’s old primary school. When she sees me in the police car, her mouth falls open. I raise my hand and wave. She stares like I’m a lunatic. But who cares? Like I say, it’s not as though I have a social life around here.
‘Do you have a friend who can pick up your van?’ asks the policewoman.
‘No,’ I say. ‘I don’t do friends anymore. You never know who has a Michael Reyji Ray album hidden in their collection. And you can’t ask to see people’s music library – you look like a weirdo.’
The policewoman glances at her colleague. ‘Where are you from originally, Miss Miller?’
‘San Francisco.’
‘I have a cousin near there,’ says the policewoman.
‘In California?’
‘New York.’
‘That’s about a thousand miles away from San Francisco, but okay.’ I stare out of the window again.
There’s a long pause, and then the policewoman says: ‘So … you’re from the States originally?’
‘Yes.’ My eyes fix on the little cottages lining our village high street.
‘What made you settle in the UK?’
‘Michael. He flew me here.’
‘You never wanted to go back home then? After you had your daughter?’
‘It … wasn’t convenient.’
‘Don’t you have family out there?’
‘A big sister.’
‘Do you get along?’
‘Of course we get along.’ I hope the police can’t see tears coming. ‘She’s the best sister anyone could ever ask for. She brought me up. She looked after me when I was sick.’
‘But you’ve chosen to live away from her. Here. In this country. Near Mr Ray.’
I hesitate. ‘It just worked out that way. Moving here. I knew the area.’
‘You haven’t seen Mr Ray since you’ve moved here?’
I look out of the window. ‘No.’
The car slides to a stop outside our house.
‘There’s a lot of security around your house, isn’t there?’ The policewoman opens my car door. ‘Big gates.’ Her eyes wander over our expansive fencing. ‘You know, this isn’t America. There’s no gun crime around here. Nobody needs security like this. Well, unless you’re a celebrity like Mr Ray. You might enjoy life more if you opened up your house to the street. Became part of the community.’
‘You haven’t got a clue.’
I walk away and fingerprint buzz myself through the tall wooden gate. Once the gate is slammed behind me, my body sags against the wood, jaw tight, fists clenched. The moment I hear the police car drive away, I let out a furious scream, punching the wooden gate over and over again.
‘Lorna.’ Nick jogs out of the house in his tight T-shirt, hair clipped and neat, face tight with worry. He sweeps me into his arms. ‘What happened?’
‘Liberty’s there. She’s at Michael’s house. The police drove me home.’
‘The police? What, they arrested you?’
‘Not exactly. But Michael has them in his pocket. I should have known. It’s just like before.’ I put knuckles to my mouth. ‘He has her, Nick. He has her.’
‘Hey. Hey, let’s keep things calm. Liberty … is she physically okay?’
‘I have no idea. They wouldn’t let me see her.’
‘But if the police … they know Liberty is with him, right? With her dad?’
‘I told them Liberty was there. But whether they believe me is a different story. I’m not even sure they believe Michael is Liberty’s father.’ I look at my bleeding knuckles. ‘He’s so clever, Nick.’
Nick steps back and puts steadying hands on my shoulders. ‘Come on, let’s just keep it calm. Liberty will be okay. You don’t know anything bad has happened to her—’
‘He’s warping her mind,’ I say. ‘That’s what he’s doing. Right now. Psychological abuse is worse than physical abuse. Did you ever hear that? It causes more damage.’
‘Liberty is a bright kid, Lorn. She has her head screwed on. Have faith in her. No one’s going to twist her mind. She loves you. You’re her mother.’
I flinch. ‘Nick, I need your car keys.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m going back to Michael’s house.’
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea, Lorna. If the police just drove you home … you’re going to get yourself arrested. Why don’t I go? Try and reason with the man?’
I laugh.
Nick looks offended. ‘I have three celebrity clients, Lorna. I know how to deal with ego.’
‘If you went to Michael’s house, you’d end up having a beer with him and a game of pool. You’d come out telling me what a good guy he is and how I’ve got it all wrong.’
‘Give me some credit,’ says Nick. ‘You’re my fiancée. I’m on your side. And I’m on Liberty’s side too.’
‘Really?’
‘Of course I am.’ Nick crosses his arms, fists automatically going to pump out his biceps. ‘Come on, Lorna. I’m big enough to overlook a bit of teenage anger. Of course I’m on her side. Poor kid must be confused as hell right now.’
‘I need your car keys.’
‘Come inside. I’ll make you a cup of tea—’
‘Caffeine is a stimulant. If you want to calm me down, offer me Jack Daniels.’
‘Just come inside—’
‘Nick, I’m not going to sit around drinking tea while my daughter is with a monster.’
‘So what are you going to do? Drive right back there and get yourself arrested? You’re not going to help Liberty from a prison cell. Let’s make some calls and find someone who can help us.’
‘Like who?’
‘I don’t know. A good solicitor.’
‘Michael would run rings around a solicitor. My sister. I need Dee. She was with me when it all happened. She knows the truth. She saved me. She knows about Annalise.’
‘Who’s Annalise?’
I can’t meet his eye.
‘Lorna?’
‘Annalise was Cat Cannon’s daughter,’ I say. ‘You’ve heard of Cat Cannon, right?’
‘Cat Cannon …’ Nick’s eyes shuffle through memory files until he finds the right one. ‘The heroin-addict singer with lipstick all over her face? Who fell on her backside on The Tonight Show?’
‘She’s clean now. From what I hear.’
‘I didn’t know she had a daughter.’
‘Yeah. She did.’
‘Wait a minute – Annalise … that’s Liberty’s middle name.’
‘Yes.’
‘So what happened to this girl? This Annalise person?’
‘Officially, nothing. She’s a missing person.’
‘And unofficially?’
‘Can we talk about something else, Nick? I’ve gone to too many dark places today. We need to call Dee.’
‘You’re sure you don’t want me to go to this man’s house?’ Nick asks. ‘See if I can get Libs to come home?’
‘No one should go to Michael’s house yet,’ I say. ‘You’re right, Nick. We’d just get arrested. This is a chess game, right? Michael’s good at chess. He’ll be expecting that move.’
‘So …’
I sigh. ‘We’ll do what you said. Drink tea. Stimulating tea. And work out a move he doesn’t expect.’