Realising her husband wasn’t going to talk, she cast him a doleful look, and began to speak. “She’s adopted—well, fostered really. Isn’t that right, Robert?”
He remained silent, his eyes never leaving the window.
“But long-term, we want to keep her. We’ve had Cassie since she was a baby and she’s content with us. We can give her everything; make her happy. That drug-sodden mother of hers couldn’t do anything for her. Tell me, Constable—if you were Cassie, who would you choose to live with?”
Jane Rigby sat on the sofa beside her husband and made to hold his hand, but he moved away. She continued:
“We couldn’t have children of our own. Being able to foster was a godsend, and Cassie was a beautiful baby. We both fell in love with her, didn’t we, Robert? She had blonde hair and big blue eyes, and her natural mother was far too young and wild to cope. We had hoped that we’d be able to adopt, you know, in time, but her natural mother wouldn’t give permission. I can’t understand why she should have any say in the matter. She’s never bothered with Cassie until recently.”
Robert Rigby cleared his throat. What was going on inside his head? Imogen wondered. What was it he wasn’t saying?
“Did you want to keep her, Mr Rigby?”
“Of course he did. How can you ask such a question? Robert loved little Cassie—does love little Cassie …” She dissolved in a fresh flood of tears.
“Did her natural mother want her back?”
“Well she can’t have her back,” Jane Rigby snapped. “She’s not suitable. She’s a mess and it’d never be allowed.”
“Does Cassie know her?”
Jane Rigby nodded. “Yes, she does now. She’s seen both her mother and her maternal grandmother recently. Like I said, during the past few months they’ve come and visited from time to time.”
She looked at her husband, her eyes wild with fear. “You think they’ve taken her. You do, don’t you? That’s why you won’t say anything, isn’t it, Robert? Something’s isn’t right—it’s the way we got Cassie in the first place—isn’t it?”
Imogen’s eyes went from one to the other.
“What was wrong with the way you got Cassie, Mrs Rigby?”
“Nothing…I’m not sure.” She nudged her husband, but he shrugged her away. “We never saw Social Services for a start. Don’t you think that odd?”
Yes it was. It was becoming clear that Cassie hadn’t been fostered at all—not in the accepted sense. But what was the arrangement between the Rigbys and the child’s natural mother?
“Do you think Cassie would go off with her mother?” It would certainly explain why the child had disappeared so quietly. If a stranger had approached and tried to take hold of her, the chances were that she’d have screamed blue murder.
Jane Rigby nodded, and buried her face in a hanky again. Her husband remained silent.
“I want her name and address.” There was no answer. “Mrs Rigby, Mr Rigby, if we are to find Cassie, then you are going to have to help us. If you won’t, then I’ll get the details I need from Social Services.”
Robert Rigby looked up. Imogen could tell from the look he gave her that his wife had been telling the truth—Social Services had never been part of the bargain. The frightened expression on his face said it all.
Jane Rigby took a pen and notepad from the coffee table, and scribbled down an address. “Now please go. I don’t want you here. I just want Cassie back. You have to find her!”
* * *
“So why not just tell us all that in the first place?” Rocco asked, once the detectives were outside. “Sometimes I just don’t understand people. Why all the obstacles? What is it they’re afraid of?”
“Us—the law, you idiot. They shouldn’t legally have had Cassie in the first place. I bet they’ve made some arrangement with her natural mother, and now one side has reneged on the deal.”
“You think the Rigbys bought the kid?”
“I don’t know. We’ll find Cassie first and deal with that bit later.”
“He did look shit-scared when Social Services were mentioned.”
Imogen looked at the details Jane Rigby had given her. “With a bit of luck we could have this wound up before close of play.” But when she read the address, she frowned. “She lives on the Hobfield, Rocco. Are you sure you’re up to this?”
Up to it or not, he had little choice. This was his job, and the young DC had no intention of giving it up any time soon.
“Where?”
“Heron Tower. Isn’t that where…?”
“Where I got clobbered? Yes it is. But I’ve got to move on, and I don’t want to be mollycoddled. So it’s fine. We’ll just do our job, okay?” Rocco buttoned his overcoat and turned the collar up. What was the use? It was bound to happen one day. Things being what they were around here, he couldn’t avoid the Hobfield forever.
* * *
The curtains were pulled tight shut. Rocco banged on the door of the flat and called her name, but there was no reply. Imogen put her face to the glass and could just make out a shadow flitting past.
She was in there.
“Janine! I’ve seen you. I know you’re there.” She banged on the door again. Several minutes passed, and finally the young woman came to the door.
“Miss Felton? DC Goode and DC Rockliffe from Leesworth CID.
Can we come in and ask you a few questions, please?”
Janine Felton didn’t reply. She led the way in silence into a small sitting room. The place was untidy—downright dirty in fact, and Imogen wrinkled her nose at the smell. The place was a sharp contrast to the Rigbys’ home.
“The dog. How am I expected to take him out when I live on the seventh floor?”
“Do you know where Cassandra is, Miss Felton?” Rocco was growing impatient.
“Course I do. What sort of parent d’you think I am?”
He didn’t really want to answer that.
“She’s with my mother in Scarborough.” She lifted a phone off the table and keyed in a number. “Here—ask her yourself. You don’t have to take my word for it.”
She handed Imogen the phone as a woman answered.
“Are you Janine Felton’s mother?” Imogen exchanged a few words with the person on the other end of the line, and then nodded and handed the phone back. “Thank you, Janine. You have no right to take Cassie like that. You could at least have said something to the Rigbys. They have been out of their minds with worry. I presume it was you who took Cassie from the café? You do realise that it could be classed as kidnap?”
“They’ve sent you, haven’t they? No—it’s her. She’s the one sent you. Stupid bitch knows nothing about our little arrangement because he was too bloody scared to tell her.”
“Too scared to tell her what, Janine?”
“About our little arrangement. He stopped paying, so I took Cassie back. It’s that simple. No crime’s been committed, so I don’t know what you lot are involved for. It’s down to him. All he has to do is make the payments as arranged, and I’ll leave well enough alone.”
“Are you telling us that Mr and Mrs Rigby were paying you for Cassie?”
“Too bloody right I am. What use is a kid to me? This is no place for anyone, never mind a child.”
Imogen looked gobsmacked. She shook her head and glanced at Rocco, groping for a way forward.
“I didn’t do anything wrong. My mother wanted her. When he didn’t make this month’s payment, she insisted I get her back. And they did know, the Rigbys—well he did. So don’t look at me like that. She’s my child, for fuck’s sake, so get off my case. Anyway, they were supposed to be handing her back for a couple of days before Christmas, so what difference does it make?”
“So why is Cassie with your mother now?”
“I just told you, stupid! Because we’re both going to stay there for Christmas—get away from this hell hole.”
“So Social Services know nothing about this? Cassie is not officially fostered with the Rigbys?”