brain is scrambling at high speed, sifting through millions of stored images, putting them into piles, assessing and mainly discarding. ‘Hmm … sort of … I’m not sure … Trouble is, there’s nothing distinctive about this person. They could be anyone. And yet …’ She studies the face again. ‘They look familiar.’ She shakes her head. ‘Sorry, but I don’t think I ever saw them in the park.’
DI Benedict looks briefly disappointed, then rallies. ‘According to our witnesses, she – or he – usually wore their hood up, or put a scarf over their face. One of them said they looked like they were trying to hide. Importantly, they haven’t been seen since Mabel was taken.’
‘Really?’ Amber feels a surge of hope. ‘And what about on the day Ruby left the key in the door?’
Benedict’s eyes twinkle. ‘One of the witnesses – who thinks this is a man, incidentally – saw them hanging around the front garden of your flat, though she didn’t see them actually take the key. She says she thought they’d rung the bell and were waiting for someone to answer, but nobody did so they gave up. About five minutes after they left, the witness saw the window in the bathroom being opened, meaning somebody was in the house. She thought it was a bit odd, but as it was the week before Mabel was taken, she didn’t think it was relevant.’
‘That was me,’ says Ruby. ‘I opened the window after I changed Mabel’s nappy.’
Benedict nods. ‘Okay, that’s helpful. Do you remember seeing this person – or somebody similar – on either Saturday?’
‘No, not at all … Sorry.’
Amber stares and stares at the e-fit. This could be the man or woman who took Mabel, who is with her now. Judging by the fine cut of the jaw and the slender neck, she thinks it’s a woman. There’s something slightly familiar about her, the shape of her eyes perhaps, or the length of the gap between mouth and nose … The face flies around her head like a butterfly, landing every so often on a memory, only to fly off again just as she reaches out to pin it down.
She has seen millions of faces in her life, but only stored a fraction of them in her brain. Even so, she must have many thousands filed away, grouped in categories for easy reference. Work, home, university, family, journeys, experiences, childhood, past and present, immediate surroundings … She definitely doesn’t recognise this face from the park. Or the shops, or the gym, or the medical centre, or anywhere else locally. No, it comes from another part of her life. But which part, and when? Maybe she’s imagining it, wanting to recognise it too much and playing tricks on herself. But no, she’s seen this woman before – or at least somebody who looks a bit like her … Then it hits her.
‘Oh my God!’ she cries out, slapping her hand across her mouth. ‘It’s Terri.’
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Day Nine with Mabel
I wake this morning to joyful news. There has been a significant development in the Missing Mabel case. George has been charged with the attempted murder of the sister’s boyfriend. The BBC is being boringly circumspect, but the implications are obvious. George attacked Lewis because he believed he killed his daughter. If Lewis dies, he’ll take the secrets of Mabel’s whereabouts to his grave. How tragic, how delicious. Social media will be on fire.
I switch the television off and skip into the kitchen to make breakfast. My mood is euphoric, despite the close shaves yesterday and another terrible night with Mabel. I can’t have had more than a few hours’ sleep. But not to worry, I’ll catch up when she goes down for her morning nap. I can relax now, give myself some much-needed rest. My shoulders have already dropped and the knot of tension at the back of my neck is loosening.
Mabel is sitting in her bouncy chair with a face like a smacked bottom. Every toy I’ve given her to play with has been thrown grumpily to the floor. ‘Have some toast,’ I say, returning to the lounge and tearing off a piece. She curls her little hands into fists and refuses to take it from me. ‘Oh, hunger strike now, is it?’ I quip. ‘That’s fine. All the more for me.’
I plonk myself down on the sofa and chew my toast thoughtfully. How is Amber feeling right now? I wonder. She must be distraught. First she loses