‘Prove that you have her.’
‘Which part of her do you want me to post to you?’
‘Put her on the phone.’
‘Put Julianne back on the line.’
‘No. I want to hear from Charlie.’
‘I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands, Joe.’
‘I’m not going to play games with you, Gideon. Prove to me that you have Charlie and we’ll talk. Otherwise I’m not interested.’
I press a button on the handset, ending the call.
Julianne screams and throws herself at me, trying to take the handset.
‘Trust me. I know what I’m doing.’
‘Don’t hang up! Don’t hang up!’
‘Sit down. Please. Trust me.’
The phone is ringing. I answer: ‘Put my daughter on the phone!’
Gideon explodes, ‘DON‘T YOU EVER FUCKING DO THAT AGAIN!’
I hang up.
Julianne is sobbing, ‘He’ll kill her. He’ll kill her.’
The phone rings.
‘DO THAT AGAIN AND I SWEAR I’LL-’
I hit the button, cutting him off.
He calls back.
‘YOU WANT HER DEAD? YOU WANT ME TO KILL HER? I’LL DO IT RIGHT NOW!’
I hang up.
Julianne is fighting me for the phone, hammering her fists on my chest. I have to hold the handset out of her reach.
‘Let me talk to him. Let me talk,’ she cries.
‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘Don’t hang up.’
‘Just get dressed and go downstairs. The police are coming. I need you to let them in.’
I’m trying to sound confident but inside I’m so frightened I can barely function. All I know for certain is that Gideon has been pulling strings like a master puppeteer, in total control. Somehow I have to stop his momentum, to slow him down.
The first rule of hostage negotiation is to demand proof of life. Gideon doesn’t want to negotiate. Not yet. I have to make him rethink his plans and change his methods.
The phone rings again.
Gideon is ranting: ‘LISTEN YOU COCKSUCKER. I’M GOING TO CUT HER OPEN. I’M GOING TO WATCH HER INSIDES STEAM-’
I hang up as Julianne lunges for the handset and finishes on the floor. I reach down to pick her up. She slaps my hand away and turns on me, her face contorted with fury and fear.
‘YOU DID THIS! YOU BROUGHT THIS ON US,’ she screams, stabbing her finger at me. Her voice drops to a whisper. ‘I warned you! I told you not to get involved. I didn’t want you infecting this family with your sick, twisted patients or the sadists and psychopaths you know so much about.’
‘We’ll get her back,’ I say, but Julianne isn’t listening.
‘Charlie, poor Charlie.’ She groans, collapsing on the bed in great snorting sobs. Her head is hanging over her naked thighs. There’s nothing I can say to comfort her. I cannot comfort myself.
The phone rings. I pick up.
‘Hello, Daddy, it’s me.’
My heart breaks.
‘Hello, sweetheart, are you all right?’
‘I hurt my leg. My bike is busted. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault.’
‘I’m fright-’
She doesn’t finish the statement. Her words are cut off and I hear masking tape being ripped from a spool.
Gideon’s voice replaces hers.
‘Say goodbye, Joe, you’re not going to see her again. You think you can fuck with me. You have no idea what I’m capable of.’
‘Charlie has nothing to do with this!’
‘Call her collateral damage.’
‘Why take her?’
‘I want what you have.’
‘Your wife and daughter are dead.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Take me instead.’
‘I don’t want you.’
I hear more tape being pulled off the spool.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m wrapping up my present.’
‘Let’s talk about your wife.’
‘Why? Have you found her?’
‘No.’
‘Well, I have a new girlfriend to play with. Tell Julianne I’ll call her later and give her all the details.’
Before I can ask another question the lines goes dead. I dial the number. Gideon has turned off the mobile.
Julianne doesn’t look at me. I wrap the quilt around her shoulders. She’s not crying. She’s not screaming at me. The only tears are mine, falling on the inside. They’ve never come so easily.
56
A dozen detectives and twice that many uniforms have sealed off the village and the access roads. Vans and trucks are being searched and motorists questioned.
Veronica Cray is in the kitchen, along with Safari Roy. They look at me with a mixture of respect and pity. I wonder if that’s how I appear when I confront someone else’s misfortune.
Julianne has showered twice and dressed in jeans and a pullover. She has the body language of a rape victim with her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if desperately holding on to something she can’t afford to lose. She won’t look at me.
Oliver Rabb has two new mobiles to trace- mine and the one Gideon used when he first called Julianne. He should be able to track the signals up until an hour ago when Gideon broke off contact.
There is a ten-metre GSM tower in the middle of a field, two hundred yards north-west of the village. The next nearest tower is on Baggridge Hill a mile to the south; and the next closest on the outskirts of Peasedown St John, two miles to the west.
‘We need Tyler to phone back,’ says DI Cray.
‘He will,’ I answer, staring at Julianne’s mobile, which is sitting on the kitchen table. He knew her number. He knew the house number. He knew what clothes she was wearing, what lipstick and jewellery she had on her dressing table.
Julianne hasn’t told me exactly what Gideon said to her. If she were a patient in my consulting room, I’d be asking her to talk, to put things into context, to deal with her trauma. But she’s not a patient. She’s my wife and I
