Abduction, p.1
Abduction, page 1
Abduction
Gillian Jackson
Copyright © 2022 Gillian Jackson
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The right of Gillian Jackson to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2022 by Bloodhound Books.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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www.bloodhoundbooks.com
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Print ISBN 978-1-5040-7267-0
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Epilogue
Afterword
Acknowledgements
A note from the publisher
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Also by Gillian Jackson
The Pharmacist
The Victim
The Deception
Chapter One
Elise McDonald, March 2014
* * *
I always believed I would recognise her when I saw her again. To me, it was a certainty, simply a matter of time, and today was the day. Grace was not ten yards away from me. The family likeness was unmistakable: high cheekbones, a rather too long aquiline nose, wide-set blue eyes, and full lips – features which left absolutely no doubt in my mind that this was my sister. Her proximity caused my heart to race, and my palms were clammy despite the air conditioning in the department store.
Grace was oblivious to my scrutiny, idly examining a rack of overpriced jeans which had caught her attention. Moving to a better vantage point beside a full-length mirror, I could continue to stare at her reflection without being seen. Her hairstyle was the same one I’d favoured in my teens – long honey-blonde hair, poker straight, with a thick fringe almost touching her eyes. The likeness was quite uncanny.
Suddenly, Grace moved, setting off with a purpose which brought panic to my already-anxious mind. I couldn’t let her disappear again, yet I had no plan, no idea of how, or even if, I should approach her. Following in a pathetic zigzag pattern, I touched the racks of clothes as I passed, feigning an interest.
Grace left the clothing department, heading for the escalator, which forced me to quicken my step to keep her within sight. She was leaving the store. If I let her get out into the busy mall, I might lose track of her altogether, but I was still undecided about whether to approach her. My legs were trembling and my breathing erratic as I almost ran to catch her before she reached the door. Then, still without a clue what to say, I intercepted her as she paused to examine a new brand of perfume, spraying the fragrance liberally on her wrist.
‘Hi.’ I forced myself to smile, trying to sound casual. ‘It’s Grace, isn’t it?’
‘No, sorry, you’ve got the wrong person.’ The girl returned my smile. Her youthful, innocent face almost undid my resolve. It was like looking at a pleasing blend of my mother and me, but Grace obviously could not see it. I wanted to blurt out that she was my long-lost sister even if she didn’t know it. I’d not seen her since she was three but I knew it was Grace!
‘Excuse me.’ She smiled again, a gentle expression, patiently waiting for me to move. Still blocking the exit, I searched frantically for some way to delay this young woman, to find out more about her, but I could think of nothing that didn’t smack of desperation. Then mercifully, fate decided to solve the dilemma and the baby within me suddenly kicked, causing a sharp pain beneath my ribs. An audible gasp escaped me as my hand went to my swollen belly.
‘Are you all right? Can I do anything?’ The polite smile was replaced by genuine concern and I seized the opportunity.
‘Perhaps if I could sit down for a while?’
‘Of course, there’s a bench just outside the door – can I help you there?’
Allowing Grace to take my bag, light though it was, we left the store together. When we were seated on the bench, she anxiously asked if I was any better.
‘Yes, much better, thank you. It’s a boy and I’m sure he’s wearing football boots already.’
Laughter lit up Grace’s whole face and it was all I could do to stop myself from flinging my arms around her in a futile attempt to make up for those lost years. Then, politely she asked how much longer it was until the baby was due.
‘Only six weeks.’
‘Well, if there’s nothing more I can do I’d better go.’
An icy panic gripped me. I’d hoped for more time, opportunity to quiz this girl about her life, her memories. But why should she want to spend time with a stranger?
‘Oh, but you’ve been so kind. Can I give you a lift home perhaps?’
‘Thanks, but I live out of town in Carlton Wells.’ Grace stood to leave.
‘I’ll happily take you – it’s not far.’ Please don’t let me sound too desperate.
‘Actually, I’m going to meet my dad first. He’s a doctor at the Central Health Centre, but thanks for the offer.’
My brain was working overtime, and trying to sound casual I asked, ‘It’s not Doctor Carter, is it?’ I had no idea which doctors worked there and said the first name which came to mind.
‘No, it’s Doctor Solomon, and I’m Ruth, by the way.’
‘I’m Elise. It’s been lovely to meet you, and thank you so much for your help.’ With a name and a vague location, I could relax and let Ruth Solomon leave before her suspicions were aroused. I watched her slender lithe body moving fluidly at pace, bag flung casually over her left shoulder.
Resisting the urge to call her back, to throw my arms around her and hold her tightly, I blinked the tears from my eyes. She was alive! I’d never given up hope even when the rest of my family had. And now there was no doubt in my mind that this beautiful teenager was my lost sister, Grace!
Chapter Two
Margaret Bryson, 2000
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If I had to pinpoint just one feature which sold the house in River View to us, it would be the garden. Not that I didn’t love Lilac House itself, I did, even though there was so much work to do on it. But the garden seduced me. It was divided into sections, sloping gently to the south where a high brick wall offered privacy from the river behind and the overgrown path running along its banks.
An orchard of fruit trees bordered the property’s west side, providing an abundance of apples, pears and plums, where I envisaged children laughing with delight as they harvested our very own crop. The only formal part of the garden was directly behind the house where a generous sized patio was laid out, with a lawn immediately behind it and well-stocked flower beds.
Two tall lilac trees at the far corners of the lawn accorded the house its name and provided fragrant shade through the early summer. Beyond this, the garden sloped and mature shrubs grew wild, creating a haven for birds and small mammals, most of which I tried not to think about. Ancient red-brick paths weaved in and out of the shrubs which although overgrown were magnificently natural in appearance, creating an exciting space for children to play.
We wanted three children, maybe four, and when we moved into Lilac House I was pregnant with our first child, Elise. Stephen and I appreciated how blessed we were. No couple could have been happier and when Elise was six, our second daughter, Grace, entered the world.
Grace turned three on the eighth of August – a perfect month for an outdoor birthday party. I thoroughly enjoyed preparing for the event to which eight of Grace’s friends had be en invited. The centrepiece was the cake, a teddy bear-shaped sponge covered with chocolate icing and legs covered with ‘Smartie’ trousers ‘held up’ by liquorice braces. Grace adored teddy bears, there was a considerable collection in her bedroom.
Elise took to the role of big sister with enthusiasm, and at the grand old age of nine, was proving to be an invaluable help. The guests were mainly around Grace’s age, six giggly little girls and two boys, but rather than feel left out, Elise managed to occupy the children and keep them all happily in order, like a little mother hen. The younger children adored Elise, and her boundless energy was particularly helpful as I was almost certain I was pregnant with our third child. Stephen and I were ecstatic.
Bea and Peter came to help with the party, for which I was grateful. My sister had prepared much of the food too. She was a rock on such occasions and although I knew they would dearly have loved children of their own, Bea never complained and generously invested all her love into our daughters. I considered telling my sister about the baby that afternoon, but somehow it didn’t feel appropriate. The day seemed to underscore the fact that I had so many good things in life while she did not.
Our neighbour, Christine Robinson, was also on hand to help. She and her husband, Harry, had become good friends over the nine years we’d lived in Lilac House. Christine was always keen to help with the girls if I needed it. Practice, she would say – a dress rehearsal for her own family. Sadly, although they longed for children, it didn’t happen.
The party was magical: perfect weather, contented children and a happy relaxed atmosphere as we played games after tea. Our garden was a superb place to play hide and seek, and squeals of laughter rose into the air as the children took their turn to be ‘it’ while the others hid.
Elise was helping Bea to clear the tea things back into the house while Christine and I supervised the games. James, the younger of the two little boys, was leaning on the lilac tree, eyes squeezed shut and counting slowly to twenty, or as near as he could get. The other children scurried swiftly away through the maze of shrubs, their giggles turning to whispers and then to silence as they squeezed into tiny spaces or crouched behind trees in the orchard.
I took James’s hand to help search for his friends; it was a daunting task for one little boy on his own in such a sizeable and unfamiliar garden. Following the sound of muffled laughter, we found the first two girls hidden behind tree trunks, and as they followed on we made our way through the labyrinth of shrubs that grew untamed at the bottom of the garden.
Soon I had a line of children behind me, following on gaily like baby ducklings. We found all the children except Grace which was hardly surprising – she was the one who knew the very best hiding places. I called for her as the others grew restless, ready to move on to a new game, but my daughter remained elusive. Elise had returned to the garden and I asked her to keep looking for Grace, hoping she too would know those perfect, secret, hiding places.
Ten minutes can seem such a long time to children, and Grace’s guests were bored with hide and seek, so I led them back to the lawn while Elise searched for her sister. Another five minutes passed and my girls had not appeared. A small knot of anxiety formed in my stomach, an apprehension which I tried to shrug off. Logic told me she had to be somewhere in the garden – there was no way she could have got out without being seen.
Bea appeared from the kitchen, and I asked if she and Christine would watch the children while I went to help Elise, who was walking round and round the paths calling for her sister.
‘Grace isn’t answering, Mummy. Do you think she’s gone to sleep somewhere?’
‘I don’t know, darling, but we’ll soon find her now we’re both looking.’
I was concerned, edgy. We went right to the boundary wall at the bottom of the garden, where it was quiet; the noise of the children playing on the lawn was just a whisper on the light summer breeze.
Surely Grace would hear our calls. I lifted the overgrown shrubs in the hope that Elise was right and her sister had fallen asleep somewhere, but my hands were shaking and I was finding it difficult to breathe.
To my relief, Stephen appeared by my side. His reassuring smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, ‘Bea said you couldn’t find Grace? She must be here somewhere.’
‘I know, but we’ve searched everywhere. Perhaps she’s fallen asleep and not heard us.’ I glanced at my watch – it was twenty minutes since we’d started the game, not a long time but enough to stir panic inside of me.
‘Are you sure you’ve looked everywhere?’
‘Yes, but she could have moved around, trying to stay hidden.’
I looked hopefully at Stephen, who called more sternly this time. ‘Grace, the game’s finished now and your friends are waiting for you. Come out where we can see you – it’s time to blow your candles out!’
Elise moved closer to me, wrapping her thin arms around my waist. ‘She’s not here, is she, Mummy?’
Huge tears were running down her face. I wanted to comfort her yet felt like crying myself.
Stephen told us to go back to the house and fetch Peter. Together they would search while I returned to the other children. It was an effort to move. My mind was spinning with such terrible thoughts but I needed to hold it together.
Grace must be somewhere in the garden. I was being silly and passing my edginess on to Elise. I took her hand and purposefully walked back to the others. We were both sniffing, trying to act unconcerned.
Bea flashed me a questioning look as we approached.
‘Where’s Peter?’ I asked.
‘He went in for a beer and to catch the football results – shall I get him?’
My nod sent Bea scurrying inside to find her husband. They appeared in a couple of minutes and I pointed to the bottom of the garden.
‘Could you go and help Stephen?’ I could say no more. To speak the words that we couldn’t find Grace would have broken me, and there were eight little children in my care.
Bea and Christine stoically organised a game of pass the parcel, asking Elise to operate the CD player to keep her mind off Grace. I felt useless. My logical self was attempting the ‘pull yourself together, they’ll find her soon’ speech, but my heart was breaking. All kinds of scenarios flashed before my eyes – disturbing, ugly images, which stubbornly refused to shift from my mind.
Another fifteen minutes passed before Stephen appeared, hurrying towards us, followed by Peter but no Grace. His expression told me all I needed to know as he took my hand to lead me into the house. Bea and Peter needed no instruction to look after the children. They were terrific and carried on with the games, even though I knew they must have shared our concerns and fears for Grace.
Stephen’s face was ashen. ‘I think we need to call the police.’
Chapter Three
Margaret Bryson
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I’d never had occasion to dial 999 before and neither had Stephen. I listened to his side of the conversation, the recital of our address and a description of Grace – words which were my undoing. I heard a low feral moan followed by loud sobbing and realised those awful noises were coming from somewhere deep inside of me. The pain was almost physical as I wrapped my arms around my middle as if trying to stop myself from crumpling on the floor.
