Silent Child(26)

“All right, who’s ready for hot dogs?”

Jake stuck his hand up like the suck-up kid in class. “I certainly am. What about you, Aiden?”

“I hope you’re both hungry,” I said, trying to fill the silence while Aiden ignored the question.

As I placed the hot dish onto the table, the phone began to ring.

“I’ll get it.” Jake started to stand, but I flapped my hands at him and shook my head.

“I’m on my feet anyway. You two get your teas while it’s still hot.”

I padded into the hall to pick up the landline. There were only a handful of people who bothered to call the landline, which could explain why my heart was pattering beneath my grey woollen jumper. I shook my head, trying to ignore the irrational heat of anxiety worming its way through my veins.

“Hello.”

“Emma, it’s DCI Stevenson; are you well?”

“I’m fine. Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine, Emma. But I wanted to talk to you about an idea I have.”

*

The next morning, I stood on the edge of Rough Valley Forest with Aiden on my right and Dr Foster on my left. We’d always called it ‘going rough’ when we were teenagers. We’d drink in ‘Rough’ as a dare. To me the forest had always been a place of silliness, of youth and irresponsibility. That day, standing next to Aiden, could not be more different than ‘going rough’. I had an important job to do as a mother.

I’d agreed with DCI Stevenson to keep our intentions quiet. Jake had wanted to come with us, but I advised him to go to school instead. The less fuss the better. I hadn’t called Rob, which I was trying not to think about. Would he understand? He’d want to be here, I knew that much, but I didn’t want to crowd Aiden.

We all had on our waterproof coats against the rain. Aiden’s was brand new, bought only a few days ago. But I hadn’t thought to buy wellies, so trainers had to suffice.

It was a grey, drab day. A nothing day. A day that should barely be a blip on our own personal radars. And yet… it was a something day, because of what was about to happen. There was also a hint of beauty in the low-hanging fog. The rain pattered against the hood of my jacket. The air was very still, without even a hint of wind, which brought the rain directly overhead. Mist clung to the branches and blocked the path to the forest.

“I would have waited,” said Stevenson. “But with the story beginning to spread, I thought it would be best to try it now before the press start following us around wherever we go. How’s Aiden doing?”

It was a loaded question and we both knew it. DCI Stevenson was, of course, desperate for Aiden to start talking. We all were.

“Small steps,” I said. Then I added, “Still no words.”

“It’s going to take time, Detective,” said Dr Foster. I was glad of her presence, though she had remained relatively quiet so far. It was nice to have another woman around sometimes, especially if she backed you up from time to time.

Stevenson nodded, with his thin lips even thinner due to his sombre expression. The disappointment was easy to read on his face. “You know what I’d like Aiden to do today, don’t you?”

I took in the sight of the team he had gathered. There were only two other officers because he’d wanted to keep it small to try not to spook Aiden. They were here to collect any evidence they found. I clenched and unclenched my hands, trying not to rub them anymore. There was a sore rash spreading over my hands and the constant rubbing was doing them no good.

“I understand. I think it’s too soon though.” My gut told me that. If Aiden wasn’t ready to speak to us, I doubted he was ready to show us either, though I’d continued to let him have pens and paper in case he decided to. So far he’d drawn nothing but scribbles.

“We need to try,” DCI Stevenson said. “But take your time.”

I glanced from the trees to the narrow road on my left. We were deliberately close to the spot where the driver had seen Aiden staggering away from the woods. This was where they had picked him up and taken him to the police station. What if it was them, I thought, and then dismissed it. Of course the police would have checked that avenue already. Besides, why would Aiden’s kidnapper take Aiden to the police station? I berated myself for my own stupidity. I wouldn’t be much help on this case if I didn’t think logically.

I turned to Aiden, who was as still as always, staring into the foggy woods. There was no indication that he even recognised his surroundings, certainly no indication that he had suffered some sort of psychological break after a traumatic event. It happened right here, in this spot. Unless… unless he wasn’t speaking before. The doctors had taken an MRI scan of his brain to check for brain damage; there was none. Aside from not speaking, he understood us; he walked, put his clothes on, brushed his teeth all with perfect coordination. There was no evidence to suggest that he had learning difficulties, though the doctor did tell us that autism was a possibility. In my heart, I knew it wasn’t autism. At six years old before he was taken from me, Aiden hadn’t shown any indication of autism. This mutism had been triggered through the years of trauma. Years. How could I ever get used to thinking that? Years of systematic abuse. How was he even still a person?

I wiped a sheen of sweat from my brow and pulled myself together. “Are you ready?”