The Other People(73)

She said steadily, “I didn’t. The first I knew about any of this was last night. I didn’t even know for sure that Izzy was your daughter. She was calling herself Alice.”

“Alice?” His face darkened. “I suppose that was the name this woman—Fran—gave her.”

She looked down into her glass. “I want you to keep in mind that, whatever you think about the woman who took Izzy, she has looked after her and kept her safe all this time.”

He barked out a hard laugh. “She kidnapped my daughter. She made me believe she was dead. Why the hell are you defending her?”

She took another sip of brandy and grimaced.

“She’s my sister.”

“Your sister?” Something changed in his face. “Of course.” He shook his head. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Look, I hadn’t seen or heard from Fran in over nine years. Then, yesterday afternoon, I got a phone call. From a girl I believed was Fran’s daughter—asking for my help.”

“Completely out of the blue?”

“Yes.”

“And you just believed her?”

“Whatever was going on, she was a child, scared and alone. I fetched her and brought her home.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Not much at first. She said her name was Alice and that Fran had told her to call my number if she was ever in trouble.” She swallowed. “But, from the start, there were things that didn’t feel right. She forgot to call Fran ‘Mum’ and I noticed that her hair had been dyed. I wasn’t sure why you would dye an eight-year-old’s hair.”

“Seven,” Gabe said.

“Sorry?”

“Her birthday isn’t until April. Two months away. She’s seven.”

Katie felt her cheeks flush. “I’m sorry.”

“Go on,” he said tersely.

She took another gulp of brandy. She was getting more used to the burning sensation now.

“Later that night, she admitted that Fran wasn’t her real mum. She said her real mum was dead. Fran had saved her and kept her safe. But now she’s disappeared.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“I was going to, this morning…”

“And?”

“This happened.” She pointed at her face. “A man came to the house. He was after Izzy. I think he would have killed me, but Izzy knocked him out with her bag of pebbles. She saved my life.”

The smallest of smiles tilted the corners of his lips. “That’s my girl.”

She felt a momentary loosening of the tension, the mistrust, between them. Then he frowned.

“Why didn’t you call the police then?”

“Because the man who attacked me was a police officer.”

She saw his eyes widen, realization dawning. “The man who stabbed me was dressed in a police uniform. Young, stocky—”

“Shaven head?”

He nodded, and she felt a chill. All this time. Steve had been using her sister. Just not in the way she thought.

“That sounds like him.”

“Why would a police officer be involved in this?”

She shrugged. “Everyone has a price.” She thought about the look in Steve’s eyes. The enjoyment. “Some are just cheaper than others.”

It seemed as if he were about to say something to this, then he shook his head.

“That’s why you ran?”

“And then I called you.”

He nodded, considering. “I still don’t understand, though. How did you realize that ‘Alice’ was Izzy? How did you even get my number?”

Katie reached into her pocket and pulled out the crumpled flyer. She held it out to him.

“I kept hold of it.”

“And you recognized Izzy from this picture? Isn’t that a bit of a leap?”

She hesitated. How much to say? How much to admit? She placed the brandy glass carefully on the large coffee table. “My sister is not a bad person. I really believe that what she did, she did for Izzy, to protect her—”

“How do you know? You haven’t seen her in nine years. Or is that a lie?”

“No!”

“I mean, when you think about it, it’s all a bit convenient. You just happen to work at the service station where I stop for coffee. And your sister turns out to be the person who kidnapped my daughter. What are the odds?”

She glared at him. “You think I’d waste my life working for years in a shitty café just on the off chance that you might call in once a week and ignore me? Yeah, great plan. In the last twenty-four hours I’ve been attacked in my own home, forced to take my children and run. I don’t know if we’ll ever feel safe going back. I have no idea if my sister is alive or dead. How do you think that makes me feel? I never asked for any of this.”

She felt tears burning and tried furiously to blink them back. She would not cry in front of him. Keep it together. Like you always do.

He stared at her, a strange look in his eyes. Then he sighed and sagged back on to the sofa, the anger subsiding.

“If your sister isn’t a bad person, why was she in my house that night? Why did she take Izzy and run? Why did she abandon her own daughter’s body? What sort of mother does that?”