From the Cradle by Mark Edwards, Louise Voss Read Free Book Online Page B

straight lines.
    ‘And how did Alice cope with you going out with her dad?’
    Helen sighed. ‘Not brilliantly. Tantrums and so on. It wasn’t easy, and if I hadn’t been so in love with Sean I might have given up. But we persevered, and now Alice and I are basically fine.’
    ‘Basically?’
    ‘She’s fifteen. Everything’s a drama. She’s not afraid of having a go at me – or at Sean. But she adores Frankie, and would never do anything to hurt her. She’ll be devastated that she’s missing. How long will you need to keep her here?’
    ‘Just till we’ve got her statement too. She’s what we call a Significant Witness. Your neighbours, Mr and Mrs—’ He consulted his notes. ‘—Jameson, have kindly offered to put you all up when we take you back. Your place is a crime scene for the moment, I’m afraid.’
    ‘Pete and Sally. Oh. That’s so kind of them. But OK.’
    ‘So, tell me, Helen, has Frankie ever wandered off before?’
    Helen sat up straight, gritting her teeth with sudden fury. ‘Before? What do you mean, before ? She’s never wandered off, full-stop, and certainly wouldn’t have done tonight! Once she’s asleep she rarely wakes up till dawn. There’s a stairgate at the top of the stairs that she can’t open, she can’t reach the front door Yale lock, and even if the back door had been left unlocked, she couldn’t have got out through the garden gate.’
    Lennon’s reaction was calm, unruffled. He wrote a note in his black notebook, in such small squiggly writing that Helen couldn’t make out what it was. Then he gazed into her eyes again.
    ‘I didn’t mean anything. Some kids are wanderers, some aren’t. We just need to know that Frankie isn’t.’
    ‘She’s not,’ said Helen, visualizing Frankie fast asleep in her toddler bed, her cheeks hot and red in slumber, a snail trail of contented drool linking the corner of her mouth to her flannelette sheet, clutching Red Ted under one arm. The pain was like a knife in her stomach; she felt eviscerated by it.
    Lennon stood up, walked across to a small table in the corner of the interview room and opened a cardboard folder.
    ‘When did Frankie draw this?’ he asked, removing a slightly crumpled piece of paper with one of Frankie’s crayoned efforts on it. Helen took it and frowned.
    ‘I’ve never seen it before.’
    ‘Really? It was on the desk in her room when we searched it, under a drawing of a cat.’
    Helen looked more closely at it, and her hand flew to her mouth when she realized what it was. ‘Someone looking through a window at her? Oh my God!’
    ‘It might not mean anything sinister,’ Patrick reassured her. ‘Frankie’s bedroom window was still locked – we’re certain no-one came in that way.’
    ‘What if they put a ladder up, to look in?’
    ‘Well, there isn’t one there now. It’s probably nothing relevant, but we just need to document everything.’
    ‘I tidied up her room before we went out. There were definitely no drawings on the table then – she must have done them after her bath. When Alice was meant to be looking after her . . .’
    ‘What makes you think she wasn’t?’
    Helen’s hand shook as she held the drawing. ‘Because Alice loves drawing too. She always helps Frankie with her drawings, adds background, does the bodies around the faces she draws, that sort of thing. They draw maps together too – funny little maps that Frankie calls ‘naps’. She dictates the landmarks and Alice draws them. They look so sweet when they get stuck into an art session, their heads together, tongues sticking out . . . She didn’t really like drawing without Alice there.’
    Her voice trailed away.
    ‘Maybe Larry did come over after all,’ she said eventually.
    Lennon looked up from his pad. ‘Larry?’
    ‘Alice’s boyfriend. She’s not supposed to have him round when we’re not there.’
    The detective arched an eyebrow. ‘You don’t approve?’
    ‘Oh, no, it’s not that. But . . .