Harker’s concern and fear for the boy seems genuine. Her reaction when he was taken was extreme; nobody volunteers for a second blast of the taser. Also, Harker is not the kind of writer who has ever courted publicity. The nature of her work as a ghost writer is the opposite of seeking publicity. If she was trying to make a big splash to win publicity for a book about inheriting the boy, surely she would be better off making herself look like the good mother? The one who foils the kidnap rather than lets it happen? Furthermore, she has volunteered extensive information including direct contact with a Scotland Yard detective who has personal knowledge of both her and the boy. For all those reasons, I don’t think this is a stunt, nor that she has any part in the abduction.
Then she sent it, hoping it would pacify her boss. Really, he should be too busy with threats against the President to be unduly concerned with her investigation. Or to question her instincts about Stephanie Harker.
Vivian retuned her attention to Stephanie, who was visibly tiring now. ‘Your media has got their claws into the story, I’m afraid.’
Stephanie groaned. ‘Can I have my phone back? There are probably a hundred texts and voicemails on it already. Not just from the press, but from my friends and family. They’ll be scared and worried. I need to talk to people.’
‘I appreciate that. And it’s not my intention to keep you from talking to anyone. But first and foremost, for Jimmy’s sake, I need you to keep talking to me. I need to make sure we’ve gone down every possible road that might lead us to the person who took Jimmy this afternoon. Besides, it’s getting late back in the UK. I’m sure people won’t expect you to call tonight. They’ll understand what’s going on.’
Stephanie looked doubtful. ‘You’ve clearly never met my agent. Not to mention my mother. Please, what harm can it do to let me make a couple of calls? I only want to reassure my mother and my literary agent. Who’s also my best friend. The rest can wait. You can listen in if you want. I’ve no secrets.’
Vivian pondered. It wasn’t exactly protocol, but nothing about this case fit the usual parameters – no violence, no ransom demands, no obvious motives. And Stephanie was a witness, not a suspect. It was hard to justify keeping her in purdah. And even if she was somehow tangentially involved in the abduction, it didn’t seem likely that her mother or her agent would be involved. Besides, she felt sure Stephanie had more of relevance to tell her. Vivian needed to keep her on side. A couple of phone calls couldn’t hurt. And it was possible the conversations might remind Stephanie of something she’d forgotten. The final argument for allowing the calls was that it would answer her boss’s fears about collusion. If this was a setup to sell books, surely a conversation with her agent would provide a clue? These were not professional criminals, after all.
Vivian checked out the phone on the desk. Yes, it had speakerphone capability. She gave Stephanie a long, level look. ‘I’m not obliged to facilitate any personal communications you want to make. Not in the middle of an investigation as serious as this. But I’m willing to let you make the two phone calls you asked for. I’m going to put you on speakerphone so I can hear the conversation and if you stray into an area I consider to be inappropriate, then I will intervene. Is that clear?’
Stephanie looked relieved. ‘You mean, if I call Randy Parton an authoritarian twat, you’ll shut me up?’
Vivian couldn’t repress a smile. ‘More like, “Here’s what the FBI are doing.” Who do you want to call first?’
‘My parents. Now the news is out, my mother will be in a state.’
‘You’ll need to hit nine for an outside line.’ Vivian pushed the phone towards her and watched her key in the number. They both listened as the phone rang out. Once, twice, then the tinny emptiness of a transatlantic speakerphone line. ‘Hello?’ It was the voice of an older woman – hesitant, light, insubstantial.
‘Hi, Mum. It’s Stephanie.’
‘Thank God! Robert, it’s Stephanie. We’ve been so worried, we saw on the ten o’clock news that Jimmy’s been kidnapped. We couldn’t believe it. You don’t expect things like that to happen to people you know.’ She sounded affronted, as if the abduction were a personal insult.
‘It’s all been a bit of a shock,’ Stephanie said.
‘Well, it’s been a shock for us too. You must be in a terrible state. How did it happen? You take your eyes off them for a moment . . .’
‘I was in a cubicle waiting to be patted down. I set the metal detector off. My leg, you know? And a man walked off with him.’
‘Well, I never. That’s America for you. You wouldn’t have something like that happening over here, would you?’
Stephanie made an apologetic face at Vivian, who smiled and shrugged. ‘It could have happened anywhere, Mum.’
‘And what about you, you poor thing? Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine. I’m helping the FBI put together a picture of our life.’
‘The FBI? Oh, Robert, she’s with the FBI. I never thought a child of mine would end up in the hands of the FBI. Oh, Stephanie, you must be worried sick. I hope they’re treating you properly. You hear all sorts—’
‘Don’t worry about me, Mum. I’m fine. It’s Jimmy you should be worrying about.’
The sound of a dismissive sniff travelled the best part of four thousand miles. ‘I knew it would be nothing but trouble, you taking on that boy.’
Stephanie pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger. This was the last thing she needed. ‘Let’s not go over this again. The point is that somebody has abducted Jimmy and yes, I am worried sick about him. He’s only five, Mum. Try and remember what that’s like. I’ve got to go now. I just wanted to let you know there’s no reason to worry about me. I’ll call you when I’ve any news.’
Without waiting to hear any more, Stephanie pressed the button to disconnect the call. She exhaled heavily, staring at the table. ‘My mother thinks I should have handed Jimmy over to social services,’ she said, her voice heavy and dull. ‘She’s led a pretty narrow life.’
Vivian often wished her own mother’s life had been a little narrower. She’d been a major in Army Intelligence and made no secret of the fact that she thought the FBI was a poor second to her own world. Maybe if her mother had been like Mrs Harker, Vivian wouldn’t have felt quite the same urge constantly to prove herself. ‘Mothers,’ she said. ‘We’re never the daughters they hoped for.’
Stephanie lifted her head in surprise and gave Vivian a tiny nod of acknowledgement. ‘My agent?’
Vivian extended a hand. ‘Be my guest.’
This time, there was no hesitancy in the voice that answered. ‘Maggie Silver,’ came the confident greeting.
‘Maggie,’ Stephanie said. ‘I thought I’d better give you a call.’
‘
‘I wish I could. But there’s no trace of him yet.’ Stephanie looked as if she might burst into tears. ‘It’s really scary, Maggie. One minute he was there, the next he was gone.’
‘I simply don’t understand how this could
‘Apparently not.’
‘How simply
‘We don’t know. We’ve heard nothing. I’m talking to the FBI, telling them everything I can about Jimmy’s history. And mine.’
‘You’ll be there all
