her head was turned. She’s always had a hang-up about money because of the tough time she had growing up.’ The words seemed tragic as they left Dympna’s lips. ‘She rang me when she got there, but only because I gave her a mobile phone and told her to hide it from them.’
‘She had to hide it? Why? Surely she has a right to call?’
Dympna shook her head. ‘She lied on her profile. Said she had no family and no friends. Now do you see? They took her on because nobody would miss her when she was gone.’ Dympna opened her slim black notebook to a bookmarked page. ‘She first rang me from the hotel.’
She handed the notebook to her father, and his eyes moved from left to right as he read through scribbled details of her call. ‘It was in the centre of New York. She said she had a view of a bridge with writing on, and a road underneath. Then there was this mention of someone named George who confiscated her phone. He took her to the couple’s house and I’ve barely heard from her since.’ She met her father’s gaze, realising she had taken on the role of police officer in this conversation. If it weren’t for the awful circumstances, she would enjoy having to think on her feet. She explained about the confidentiality agreement and how Roz had not checked it out first. ‘She was set to make a lot of money, but it makes me wonder if they intended paying her at all. I mean, why the one-way flight? And why were they so cagey about who they were?’
Dympna realised she was expressing her thoughts aloud. Thoughts that had plagued her for months. Activating her voicemail, she played the message on speakerphone. If this didn’t persuade her father, nothing would. Roz’s voice haunted the air between them, and she watched as he scrutinised the call.
‘Hi, Dympna, it’s me . . . Roz. Listen, sorry for not ringing sooner. I miss you all like hell. I, um . . . I need your advice. I’m fine and everything but . . . I thought I should give you my address. It’s just that . . . I’ve not been able to come and go as I like. In fact, I’ve not been able to leave at all.’ Roz’s words came in stops and starts, followed by an inhalation of breath before the message came to an abrupt end.
‘She was about to give me her address.’ Dympna said. ‘She could be hurt. I’ve tried ringing her back, but the phone line is dead.’
‘Well, let’s not get carried away here,’ John replied. ‘She sounds worried, but not scared. She said she’s unharmed. But the fact she wants to give you her address means that something is potentially wrong. My biggest cause for concern is that she’s not able to come and go.’ He met Dympna’s gaze. ‘You’re right to be concerned. Let’s get the ball rolling and see what we turn up.’
‘Thanks,’ Dympna said, relieved her dad was taking her seriously. It was good to share the burden at last.
Her father was deep in thought, already planning ahead. ‘I’ll look into the legitimacy of this Miracle-Moms site first. The fact that she signed an official agreement suggests that they planned to follow this through.’
‘Roz told me it would blow my mind if I knew who the couple were.’ Dympna slipped on her glasses before flicking through the pages of her notebook to a list. ‘I’ve narrowed it to about fifty people who would blow me away, and if it’s a celebrity couple then there are a lot less.’
‘Very good,’ her father said, looking suitably impressed. ‘Did she sound scared the last time you spoke?’
‘That was two months ago.’ Dympna licked the froth from her lips after a sip of her cappuccino. ‘She said she was fine, but she was whispering, and she didn’t text or ring on Christmas Day. Please, Dad. She’s in trouble. I can feel it in my bones.’
‘OK,’ John replied. ‘What about the baby’s father? Did she say who he was?’
Dympna shook her head. She was too upset to relay her suspicions. She didn’t know if there was a future for her and Seamus any more. ‘The da didn’t come into it because they want to raise the baby as their own. I told her she should stay in Ireland and . . .’
‘Wait,’ her father interrupted. ‘They want to pass the baby off