He produced the phone, and Nina wrote her email and sat clicking through her address book. She arrived at Claire’s address and burst into sudden, shocking sobs. She would never send Claire another email.
‘Dear God, Sam – why, why, why didn’t Mum tell me about John Moore? None of this would have happened if I’d known.’
‘She couldn’t have known what he was,’ said Sam.
Nina closed her eyes. She would never understand it. How on earth had Claire managed not to know what her husband was? It didn’t seem possible.
Sam was watching her face. ‘Do you believe she was doing what she thought was best?’
‘Yes.’ It was a gut reaction. There was no way she could doubt Claire’s intentions.
David Mallony was out at one of the estates, but his sergeant broke the seal on John Moore’s door for Nina and Sam. He told them Sabine was still critical in the intensive care unit, and Nina felt her face blanch. Paul had injured Sabine to this extent before he’d lost it so completely. Now he’d be capable of even more craziness and violence…
The sergeant also showed them the text of the appeal due to go out on TV and online that morning. It was short, simply asking for information about Naomi, who was ‘with a distant relative in need of medical attention’. Nina read it, her lips pressed together hard. How many times had she seen a similar appeal and thought vaguely that at least the child concerned was with a relative? She’d had no idea. She swept the photos into a plastic bag and almost ran from the house.
At nine-thirty they were parking under the big tree at The Elms. Emily was waiting, the coffee table cleared in anticipation of the photos. She put her arms round Nina, patting her back in a frail, old ladyish way, and Nina only just managed not to cry again.
‘Oh Emily. We need to know everything you can tell us about Paul, please. We don’t know enough to find him and Naomi. And I think you said something last time but I can’t remember what it was.’
Emily sat back. ‘He was a strange child,’ she said frankly. ‘A sweet little boy, but as he grew older he became wild and distant. His mother was a nice girl when she was sober but she was an alcoholic, poor thing. I didn’t see much of Paul after you and your mother left. That broke up the family; there weren’t many Sunday lunch parties after that and I was too busy with my own life to worry about Paul. Then later his parents split up. He was sent to boarding school, I’m not sure when. After Jane’s death, I think.’
‘I see,’ said Nina. ‘We didn’t know that; he skated over it when he was talking to me and later he clammed up when Sabine asked him. Do you know why he was sent there? Was it because there was no one to take care of him or - ’
She broke off. Emily was frowning and shaking her head.
‘Well, there was that too, but I rather think there was something more. I remember shortly before Jane died – Paul must have been eleven or twelve – she had him at some kind of nerve doctor, a psychiatrist, I suppose. I think he was having problems at school, and I always assumed it was because of Jane’s alcoholism.’
‘A psychiatrist,’ said Sam, sitting straighter. ‘Jeez, Nina, that explains a lot. Childhood trauma can cause… um…’
Nina gave him a warning look. Emily still knew nothing about the paedophilia or the abuse, they should break the news gently. She soon saw that she had underestimated her great-aunt.
‘Young man, you’re talking in riddles,’ said Emily, frowning at him. ‘What trauma do you think caused Paul’s problems?’
Nina glanced at Sam and took Emily’s hand. It was time to tell the truth.
‘It seems his father and others abused him sexually when he was a young boy,’ she said, hearing the tremble in her voice. ‘At least Paul says they did, and at the moment it appears to be true. I’m sorry, Emily. There were paedophilic images on John Moore’s computer, too.’
Emily sat still, then gave a sigh. ‘There is such wickedness in the world. All you can do is hope you never come across it,’ she said softly. ‘And now we have. My own sister’s boy. And your father.’ She reached towards a box of tissues on the coffee table, her hand shaking visibly. Nina was unable to keep her own tears back, and for a moment they both sat wiping their eyes.
Emily tucked her tissue into her sleeve. ‘The important thing is to get your Naomi back. We can deal with Paul later. He needs help.’
Sam unpacked the photos, and Emily fetched her powerful magnifying glass. Nina sat beside her making a list, as she had done with Paul. Come to think of it, Paul hadn’t been happy doing this, so maybe there was something on one of the photos. He’d been very interested in the non-people ones too, so it was important to look at them all.
Nina had filled three pages of her notebook when Emily wilted. Alarmed at her aunt’s pale face, Nina rang the buzzer for the warden.
‘Yes, that’s quite enough for the moment,’ said the woman, helping Emily to her feet. ‘Come on, Emily love, you can lie on your bed and rest for an hour or two.’
‘I want to go on. We might find something important,’ protested Emily, and Nina squeezed her hand.
‘I’ll leave the photos and the pad,’ she said. ‘If you’re up to it later you can carry on yourself, and we’ll phone this afternoon anyway to see how you are. But don’t make yourself ill, Emily. You’ve been a great help, thank you so much.’
The mobile Sam had lent Nina trilled out its sea shanty ring tone when they were on the way back to Bedford, and she scrabbled in her pocket for it, her heart pounding. Was this - ?
David Mallony’s voice was grim in her ear. ‘No news yet, though we’ve ruled out a few places,’ he said tersely. ‘But there’s information coming in about the Wright family. I won’t tell you on the phone but - ’
‘We’ll be with you in – ten minutes,’ said Nina, glancing out. And how horrible it was that she’d driven up and down this road so many times now that she knew within a couple of minutes when they would arrive anywhere. Her summer should have been on Arran, with Naomi pony-trekking and running wild along the beach. Not this.
Nina’s breath was catching in her throat as they hurried into the police station. Information that couldn’t be passed on over the phone wasn’t going to be good news. And it wasn’t.
‘Paul’s girlfriend doesn’t seem to exist,’ said David Mallony. ‘That was presumably a ploy to make you feel safe in his company. Okay, George Wright is currently in Thailand. Colleagues there are out looking for him but as he’s apparently been there for weeks there’s little doubt he’s unconnected with what’s been happening here. When they find him we’ll have him questioned about the abuse Paul’s accusing him and John Moore of. But we can be fairly sure that Paul himself is our blackmailer this time round. And I’m afraid that’s the good news.’
‘Shit,’ said Nina. What was coming now? Not the worst news, because Naomi was still missing – could there be any other bad news?
‘There are paedophilic images on Paul Wright’s computer too,’ said David, his eyes holding hers. ‘Seven in all. Three of them are the worst grade. Now it could be that Paul was doing what he said, researching the abuse dished out to him. Many victims do that, so at the moment we have to keep an open mind about what it means.’
Nina gripped the arms of the chair she was sitting in. Was Paul a paedophile too? And – worst grade? What did that mean? She tried to speak but failed, dear God, all she wanted to do was curl into a ball and howl. No. That was wrong. All she wanted was five minutes with her so-called cousin. What wouldn’t she be capable of doing to the man who had taken and quite possibly harmed her daughter. The thought of what might have happened to Naomi – of what might be happening right this minute – crashed into Nina’s brain and she choked, fighting for control.