the name Caldwell,’ he suggested. ‘She left home not long after it happened. Changed her name, according to her mother.’
Not according to Laura, then? She really hadn’t been forthcoming about anything, had she? Whatever excuses Steve might be making for her, the woman was a pathological liar. ‘What was his name?’ she asked, a chill of trepidation creeping through her.
‘Jacob,’ Steve replied, and Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. This was the name of the superhero in the story she’d told Ollie. Laura had called Ollie Jacob. The first time she’d been here, she’d actually called him by her brother’s name. Her blood turned cold as she realised that Laura had been keeping this lost child alive through Sarah’s son.
Twenty-Seven
Sarah read the online report feeling sick to her soul:
Missing toddler latest: Jacob Caldwell, who vanished from his bed in July 2003, is believed dead. Despite repeated searches and investigations following the three-year-old’s disappearance, no trace of the child has ever been found.
Detectives from West Mercia Police searched extensively for clues around the Warwickshire house from where it was first assumed Jacob had been taken. It is since believed that he may have wandered from the house onto land close by that was being excavated. Officers believe he may have been accidentally killed by one of the construction vehicles on site. To date, his body has not been recovered.
There was a photograph of him, Jacob. A sweet, petite little boy with blonde hair and blue eyes; haunting blue eyes that looked straight back at her, tearing her heart into a thousand pieces. She couldn’t believe it. Why had Laura never mentioned this, to Steve if no one else? Despite his tendency to sometimes hide away from emotional things, he would have been supportive. Was that why she’d changed her name, Sarah wondered, to try to forget, to somehow put the tragedy behind her? She would never be able to do that if her name was constantly associated with it. It could conceivably be why she would hide it from Steve – because the memories were just too painful. They must be, if subconsciously she couldn’t let go of them.
Feeling devastated for Laura and her mother, who must both have been utterly broken, she wondered whether she should call Laura. She was backtracking majorly – she still had to consider Ollie, whose safety was her absolute priority – but perhaps she should try and reach out to her. If Laura opened up a little, maybe Sarah could persuade her to seek help, which she clearly badly needed. Her heart ached as she thought about Jacob, what the poor mite must have gone through, the fear he would have felt out there in the dark night on his own, the terror when he saw what must have looked like some mechanical monster coming towards him. Please God he hadn’t seen it. Please God he might have been sleeping, curled up somewhere and oblivious. Her mind went to Ollie, and her stomach lurched as she felt the fear like a physical thing.
She should call her. Closing her PC, she wiped away the tears she hadn’t realised she was crying and went to the work surface for her phone. Deliberating for a second, she selected Laura’s number, and then paused, perplexed, as she received a text. Joe. A turmoil of conflicting emotions ran through her. She hadn’t thought he would have the nerve to contact her after their last conversation. Clearly, he had.
Can we talk? he’d sent, unbelievably. Why? Sarah wondered. Did he want to rub salt in the wounds and end things with her officially? She thought she’d already done that. Perhaps he was about to come up with some excuse as to why he would be in the company of a woman who was about to slip into the bath. Was he going to claim he did a spot of plumbing in his spare time and that Courtney had needed hers attending to?
I don’t think there’s much point, she typed, and was about to press send when he sent another: It’s about Laura.
Sarah hesitated, and then, pushing her hurt to one side, braced herself and called him.
‘Hi, how are you?’ he said, the undeniably masculine timbre of his voice causing her stomach to flutter, despite her determination to remain unaffected by him or any excuses he might have to offer.
‘Fine,’ she said shortly.
‘I’m guessing you don’t want to hear my explanation?’ he said, sounding despondent. He could never feel as despondent as she’d